358  A 


FOR  THE  WHITE  ROSE  OF  ARNO 


BUY.  W  CALIF.  UBR  ART.  LOS  ANGELES 


FOR  THE  WHITE  ROSE 
OF  ARNO 


BY 

OWEN  RHOSCOMYL 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  JEWEL  OF  YNYS  GALON,"  "  BATTLEMENT  AND  TOWER 


NEW    YORK 
LONGMANS,  GREEN,  AND  CO. 

LONDON  AND  BOMBAY 
1896 


COPYRIGHT,  1896,  BY 
LONGMANS,  GREEN,  AND  CO. 


Press  of  J.  J.  Little  &  Co. 
Astor  Place,  New  York 


DEDICATION 

TO  EVERY  MAN  WHO,  NO  MATTER  HOW  PLAINLY  HE  RECOGNISES 
THE  BENEFITS  WHICH  ACCRUED  FROM  THE  DEFEAT  OF  CULLODEN, 
STILL  DREAMS  LONGINGLY  OF  THE  DEEDS  HE  WOULD  HAVE  DONE 
TO  TURN  THE  FORTUNE  OF  THE  DAY  HAD  HE  BUT  BEEN  THERE, 

THIS   BOOK    IS   MOST    RESPECTFULLY    DEDICATED    BY 

THE    AUTHOR 


2132431 


THE    EPISTLE   TO   THE    READER 

IN  dubbing  this  book  "  For  the  White  Rose  of 
Arno  "  I  was  not  aware  that  the  phrase  was  at  all 
questionable,  until  a  student  of  the  Jacobite  move- 
ment pinked  it  with  a,  "  Why  of  Arno  ?  The  Pre- 
tenders had  nothing  to  do  with  the  Arno.  Why 
not  of  Tiber  ?  " 

In  reply  I  could  only  say  that  the  phrase  was  not 
mine  but  Pengraig's  own,  and  that  it  was  used  also 
in  a  pamphlet  published  immediately  after  his 
death  for  the  purpose  of  vilifying  his  name  and 
memory.  It  is  certain,  therefore,  that  "  the  White 
Rose  of  Arno"  was  well  understood  to  express 
symbolically  the  Pretender  and  his  cause  at  the 
time  when  both  were  living  factors  to  be  reckoned 
with.  Moreover,  Llewellin,  in  his  biography  of 
Morgan,  continues  the  use  of  the  term,  and  the 
latest  writer  upon  the  point,  Mr.  J.  Arthur  Price, 
follows  in  his  wake.  Thus  this  book  could  hardly 
come  out  under  any  other  title  than  the  one  which 
meant  so  much  to  the  chief  actors  in  it. 

So  much  for  the  title;  and  as  to  the  matter  of  the 
story,  I  should  like  to  point  out  that  in  discussing 
Charles  Edward's  march  to  Derby  and  subsequent 
retreat,  sufficient  weight  has  never  yet  been  al- 


viii  THE  EPISTLE   TO    THE  READER 

lowed  to  that  part  of  the  Jacobite  movement  dealt 
with  in  this  tale.  The  reason  for  this  lack,  how- 
ever, is  a  most  potent  one — neither  the  documen- 
tary nor  the  traditionary  history  of  that  part  of  the 
movement  has  yet  been  printed.  But  a  great  deal 
of  material  for  such  a  history  still  exists,  in  spite  of 
long  neglect,  and  may  some  day  be  gathered  and 
given  to  the  world.  In  the  meantime  these  pages 
may  serve  to  shed  a  little  light  upon  the  more  dra- 
matic scenes  and  incidents  of  an  almost  forgotten 
episode,  and  at  the  same  time  to  indicate  what  was 
perhaps  the  chief  reason  why  Charles  Edward's 
march  upon  London  ended  at  Derby. 

It  is  proper  to  state  here  that  this  is  the  first  time 
that  allusion  has  ever  been  made  in  print  to  the 
messenger  who  was  undoubtedly  despatched  from 
Preston  to  Wynstay.  The  story,  however,  came 
to  me  from  a  source  which  I  hold  beyond  question, 
and  so  must  be  allowed  to  stand  as  evidence  in  its 
bare  simplicity,  even  if  not  in  the  embroidered  out- 
lines of  the  text. 

And  so  I  leave  you,  Dear  Sir  or  Madam,  to  dis- 
cover in  the  story  the  application  of  the  allusions  in 
this  epistle,  the  while  I  sign  myself  and  remain, 

Yours  very  truly, 

THE   AUTHOR. 


FOR  THE  WHITE  ROSE  OF  ARNO 


CHAPTER    I 

IN  the  smithy  of  Efail  the  smith  had  just 
dropped  the  last  hoof  of  a  deep-chested  bay  horse, 
and  was  wiping  the  sweat  from  his  face  with  the 
back  of  the  hand  which  still  held  the  rasp. 

'  You  do  your  work  as  workmanlike  as  ever,"  said 
the  horseman  standing  beside  him,  a  gentleman 
of  fifty  or  thereabouts,  booted  and  spurred  for  a 
journey. 

'  Yea,"  replied  the  smith,  glancing  again  at  the 
neat  finish  of  his  handiwork.  Then,  looking  at  the 
other,  he  continued:  "'  I  made  a  good  job  of  it, 
because  it  is  like  to  be  the  last  good  turn  I  can  ever 
do  for  you,  Pengraig.  Before  those  shoes  wear 
out  I  fear  you  may  have  need  of  the  nag  that  wears 
them,  and,  Whig  as  I  am,  I  would  not  have  you 
think  that  one  of  your  own  people  betrayed  you  by 
a  loose  shoe.  There  will  be  bloody  doings  before 


2  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

those  shoes  wear  out."  He  shook  his  head  mourn- 
fully. 

"  Tut!  tut!  Roger  Gof,"  returned  Pengraig  cheer- 
ily; "there  will  be  no  blood  spilt.  The  army  is 
away,  fighting  all  over  Europe,  as  usual,  for  the 
sake  of  a  petty  German  principality.  Britain  is  still 
the  catspaw  of  Hanover,  and  the  jest  and  scoff  of 
every  nation  on  the  Continent.  No,  soldiers  are 
too  few  in  England  just  now  to  make  any  blood- 
shed, and  what  honest  man,  other  than  a  soldier, 
would  draw  blade  for  the  Hanoverian  ? " 

The  striker  beside  the  anvil  closed  his  grip  sug- 
gestively upon  the  handle  of  his  sledge. 

"  As  to  that "  began  he. 

His  master  checked  him  sharply:  "  Quiet,  you." 
Then  to  the  horseman:  "It  is  strange  that  you 
should  be  so  ready  to  rise,  Pengraig.  True  enough, 
you  are  a  bard,  and  all  bards  follow  the  White  Rose ; 
but  then,  you  have  been  a  lawyer  in  London  so  long 
— and  cousin  to  the  king's  best  admiral,  and  all.  I 
wonder  at  you." 

"  Foh !  Why  should  not  a  lawyer  be  an  honest 
man  as  well — though,  for  that  matter,  I  hardly  ever 
practised  the  profession.  And  you  forget  that  I 
served  as  an  officer  for  a  couple  of  stiff  campaigns 
before  I  was  a  lawyer,  while  as  to  Admiral  Mat- 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  3 

thews,  he  is  his  own  keeper  and  his  own  chooser,  as 
I  am  mine.  I  have  much  better  reason  for  wonder- 
ing at  you." 

"  No  need  for  your  wonder.  Look  you  " — the 
smith  spread  his  strong  hand  to  indicate  the  scene 

"  look  you  how  fair  and  peaceful  all  the  land  lies. 
Am    I   one  to   wish   to   bring  war  upon  it  ?     Is  it- 
right,    or  worth   while,    do  you    think  ?      And    for 
what  ? ' ' 

"  For  right!  To  restore  our  lawful  king  and  the 
true  succession ;  and  when  we  strike  for  truth  and 
justice,  everything  is  right  and  worth  while — even  to 
the  shedding  of  blood.  '  How  fair  the  land  is,'  say 
you.  Yea,  it  is  fair;  aye,  it  is  more  than  fair  to  me 
when  I  think  of  it  as  the  land  of  my  birth.  But  when 
I  think  of  it  as  one  of  the  countries  dragged  at  the 
heel  of  the  Elector  of  Hanover,  then  it  becomes 
foul  with  dishonour  and  black  with  shame.  Better 
a  thousand  times  that  it  were  black  with  ashes  or 
foul  with  blood !  But,  thank  God,  a  new  day  is 
dawning — a  day  when  we  shall  all  be  free  again  and 
James  the  Third  shall  wear  the  crown  of  his  ances- 
tors, and  Britain  rest  once  more  in  peace  and  honour 
before  the  world." 

'  You  will  never  see  that  day,"  put  in  the  striker. 
'  That  you   will   not,"   added   the  smith  firmly. 


4  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

"  What !  "  he  went  on,  "  the  rags  of  Rome  !  Are 
we  all  to  be  Papists,  or  all  burnt  ? " 

"  Papists,"  retorted  the  other  impatiently.  "  Am 
I  the  man  to  be  a  Papist,  either  ?  What  alehouse 
talk!  Why,  this  young  Prince,  Charles  Edward, 
who  has  just  landed  in  Scotland,  was  educated  by 
Protestant  tutors  and  governors!  " 

"  Aye,  no  doubt;  and  if  every  man  were  as  sure 
as  you  are  that  the  White  Rose  of  Arno — as  you 
call  the  Pretender — would  bring  no  Red  Hat,  that 
Stuart  did  not  spell  Pope,  then  there  would  be  no 
need  of  ridings  and  battles.  George  would  be  more 
eager  to  get  out  of  London  than  ever  this  other  to 
get  in.  No,  that  is  why  we  are  all  against  you." 

"  Aye,  you  are  all  against  me  now,  but  when  I 
return  you  will  all  be  with  me. "  He  was  leading 
his  horse  into  the  road  as  he  spoke,  and  the  smith 
at  once  stepped  forward  to  take  the  bridle,  the 
striker  at  the  same  hastening  to  hold  the  stirrup  for 
the  mounting.  Once  in  the  saddle,  he  pulled  out  a 
coin  to  pay  with. 

"  Nay,  keep  that,"  said  the  smith,  putting  it  from 
him.  "  Some  day,  perhaps,  I'll  go  to  Pen-y-graig 
and  your  lady  shall  pay  me.  You  will  want  every 
penny  you  carry  now,  before  you  are  done  with  this 
rebellion." 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  5 

'  Then  let  Owen,  here,  take  it  to  drink  the  health 
of  King  James  with,"  smiled  the  rider  cheerily, 
dropping  the  coin  into  the  hammer-man's  hand. 

"  Oh,  I'll  do  that,"  grinned  the  recipient.  '  We 
all  know  that  the  air  of  the  Vale  of  Arno  agrees 
better  with  James  than  the  air  of  Britain.  So  I'll 
drink  to  his  keeping  his  good  health  in  Arno,  and 
to  George's  keeping  both  health  and  crown  in  Lon- 
don. Good  money  is  like  good  ale,  and  should 
never  be  wasted." 

All  three  laughed  at  the  sally.  "  I  would  double 
the  money,  only  that  I  fear  the  smith  would  be 
without  a  striker.  It  takes  a  long  time  to  get  sober, 
Owen.  But,  good  day  to  you  both  and  remember 
what  I  say — you  will  all  of  you  be  with  me  when  I 
return."  He  put  his  horse  into  motion  as  he 
finished  speaking. 

"  One  moment,  sir,"  cried  the  smith;  "  is  there 
nothing  that  will  move  you  ?  I  am  thinking  of  your 
own  good,  sir,  for  we  have  heard — that  is,  old 
Alswn  said — that  your  good  lady " 

"  Dreamed  a  dream,"  put  in  Pengraig  quietly,  as 
the  other  hesitated  for  a  word.  But  both  smith 
and  striker  saw  that  the  colour  ebbed  a  little  from  his 
face  as  he  spoke,  and  the  rougher  man  was  readier 
than  his  master  in  answering. 


6  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

"  You  know  it  was  no  dream,  sir.  She  foresaw 
you  truly:  it  was  a  vision;  and  such  a  vision  on 
such  a  night  is — 

"  To  be  expected,"  interposed  Pengraig  with  a 
strong  effort  at  cheerfulness.  Yet  he  had  to  swal- 
low the  lump  in  his  throat  before  he  could  continue. 
"  Can  you  not  see  that  it  was  merely  the  natural 
outcome  of  a  loving  wife's  fears,  filling  her  soul 
with  terror  for  the  dangers  which  she  believed  me 
running  into  ?  And  since  the  gallows  and  the  quar- 
tering knife  are  the  most  sharply  outlined  of  all 
the  possibilities  ahead,  she  of  course  dwelt  upon 
them  till  they  distracted  her;  and  then  comes  Hal- 
lowe'en, and  the  Eve  of  the  Feast  of  the  Dead, 
when,  following  a  silly  superstition,  she  took  and 
lit  her  candle  in  the  church,  and — well,  she  thought 
she  saw  an  actual  vision.  Poor  wife !  I  wish  every 
mumbling  old  nurse  in  the  country  had  all  such  silly, 
superstitious  trash  whipped  out  of  her,  and  then 
the  next  generation  would  at  least  be  free  of  that 
nonsense." 

'  You  call  it  nonsense,  sir,"  returned  the  smith 
evenly,  "  and  yet  at  the  same  time  your  face  shows 
that  you  believe  it.  Why  then  will  you  go,  when  in 
your  heart  you  believe  that  you  are  going  to  the 
scaffold  ? ' ' 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  / 

Over  the  grave  face  of  Pengraig  dawned  a  sad 
smile  of  tender  strength.  "  And  if  I  do  believe  it, 
what  then  ?  Would  you  have  a  man  turn  back  from 
doing  what  is  right  merely  from  fear  of  death  ?  Was 
any  great  thing  ever  done  by  men  who  feared  death  ? 
Dream  or  foretelling,  one  or  both,  I  am  still  going 
— and  besides,  if  it  be  a  vision  of  Fate,  then  how 
could  I  escape  by  remaining  at  home  ?  That  which  is 
to  be,  will  be,  in  spite  of  aught  I  may  do  to  prevent 
it.  So,  a  farewell  to  you  both  again.  Good  day." 

The  two  stood  silent  in  the  road  looking  after  him 
as  he  went,  till  at  length  they  were  roused  by  the 
sound  of  hoofs  coming  at  a  sharp  trot  along  the  road 
behind  them.  The  first  of  the  newcomers  was  a 
young  gentleman  of  easy  face  and  figure,  in  direct 
contrast  to  the  decisive  lines  on  which  half  a  cen- 
tury had  moulded  the  rider  just  departed. 

'  Who  is  that  gentleman  ?"  asked  he  sharply,  in 
English,  indicating  the  disappearing  figure  ahead. 

"  Dim  Saesneg !  "  *  returned  the  smith  quickly. 

The  young  man  smiled.  "  Ah!  I  forgot,"  pref- 
aced he,  as  he  repeated  the  question  in  Welsh. 

"Are  you  a  Whig?"  interposed  the  striker 
sharply,  his  empty  hand  gripping  an  imaginary 
hammer  shaft. 

*  I  have  no  English. 


8  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

"  What  is  that  to  you  ? "  demanded  the  rider  in 
turn. 

"Or  maybe  you  are  some  Government  spy?" 
pursued  the  striker  doggedly. 

"  If  you  call  me  Hanoverian  even,  let  alone  spy, 
I'll  break  every  bone  in  your  body!  "  retorted  the 
young  man  hotly,  raising  his  whip  to  strike. 

The  threatened  one  grinned  through  his  grime. 
'  Then  you  are  no  Whig,"  quoth  he. 

Man,  I  am  looking  for  Mr.  David  Morgan.     Do 
Whigs  look  for  him  ?  " 

"  Sometimes  they  do — spies,"  put  in  the  smith 
heavily.  "  And  they  will  look  for  him  again,  unless 
he  mercifully  be  killed  in  some  battle,  for  the  bullet 
and  the  trench  are  better  than  the  gallows  and 
Temple  Bar." 

"  Foh!  if  that  be  all,  I  see  you  are  both  honest 
men,"  answered  the  rider  gaily.  "  I  am  a  Tory, 
too,  just  come  from  the  Jacobite  club  of  Westmin- 
ster to  their  president,  David  Morgan  of  Pen-y- 
graig  and  so  forth.  Tush!  man,  I'll  prophesy  better 
than  that.  He  shall  come  neither  to  trench  nor  gal- 
lows but  home  here  to  his  own  Vale  of  Taff,  when 
the  king  shall  enjoy  his  own  again,  as  they  sing  in 
London  town.  And  now,  tell  me,  is  that  the  gen- 
tleman ? " 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO  g 

'That     is     Pengraig     himself,"     assented     the 
smith. 

"  David  ap  Thomas,"  *  supplemented  the  striker. 

"  Or  David  Morgan,  as  the  Prince  and  our  Eng- 
lish friends  call  him,"  laughed  the  rider. 

"  And  as  the  judge  will  call  him  when  he  dooms 
him,"  added  the  smith. 

"  Stop  it,  man,"  cried  the  rider.  "  If  you  were 
a  raven  from  Dun  'r  aven  you  could  not  croak  more 
dismally.  But  I  am  off;  good  day  to  you  both,  for 
honest  men  and  good  fellows." 

He  started  forward  at  a  brisk  pace  as  he  ended, 
followed  at  a  respectful  distance  by  his  grimly  silent 
companion.  A  stern  chase  is  a  long  one,  but  Pen- 
graig was  easy  upon  his  horse,  and  within  a  couple 
of  miles  or  so  he  was  turning  in  the  saddle  in  answer 
to  the  other's  hail. 

As  soon  as  he  saw  him  he  drew  to  a  halt.  ' '  What, 
is  it  thou,  Ithel  ?  Welcome,  welcome.  And  what 
brings  Meredith  of  Presgwyn  to  South  Wales  instead 
of  to  North  ?" 

They  were  shaking  hands  before  he  had  finished, 
and  Ithel  was  beaming  with  pleasure,  though  at  the 
same  time  he  flushed  a  little  at  the  question. 

'  Why,"   said   he,   hesitating   a  little,    "  I    have 

*  Morgan's  name  in  the  pedigree  of  his  kindred. 


10  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

brought  a  letter  for  you  from  Alderman  Heathcote, 
and  another  from  the  club  at  Westminster.  It  is 
said  in  London  that  the  Prince  is  definitely  set  to 
march  south  into  England,  and  it  was  thought  well 
to  send  you  the  news  by  me.  Here  are  the  mis- 
sives; though  I  fear  my  news  is  stale  to  you,  for  all 
the  air  seems  full  of  it." 

"  Aye,"  returned  the  other,  breaking  the  seals  as 
he  spoke;  "  what  with  the  rejoicings  of  friends  and 
the  fears  of  enemies,  words  fly  like  hawks  in  such 
times  as  these.  But  what  say  the  worthy  Alderman 
and  '  The  Independent  Electors  of  Westminster  ?  " 

Running  his  eye  over  the  contents  of  both  papers : 
"  Oh,"  commented  he,  "  the  usual  story.  '  Let  the 
Prince  show  himself  in  London,'  etc.  That  is  all 
very  well,  my  good  friends;  but  I  think  he  would 
show  himself  in  the  city  all  the  sooner  if  you  were 
to  turn  out,  mounted  and  weaponed,  to  show  him 
the  way  thither. 

'  Well,  well;  enough  of  the  '  Independent  Elec- 
tors '  for  the  present,  and  tell  me,  Ithel,  how 
does  my  poor  wife  bear  up  since  my  leaving  her  ? 
For  I  suppose  that  you  called  at  Pengraig  to  find 
me." 

The  other  blushed  a  little.  "Why,  sir,  to  tell 
you  the  truth,  I  did  not  enter  your  house.  One  of 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  II 

your  old  retainers  was  sitting  at  the  gate  bewailing 
your  going,  and  so  I  followed  straight  on,  as  I 
thought  my  news  of  much  importance." 

"  '  Especially  as  all  the  air  seemed  full  of  it,'  ' 
quoted  Pengraig;  "and  even  more  especially  as  I 
had  already  forestalled  it  by  starting  on  the  journey 
which  these  letters  were  to  suggest.  But  I  sup- 
pose the  old  retainer  also  told  you  that,  of  my  two 
daughters,  only  little  Siani  remained  with  my  poor 
wife,  and  that  Mistress  Mari  had  been  gone  some 
month  or  so  ago — eh,  Ithel  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  no,  sir.  He  told  me  absolutely  nothing 
except  that  you  were  gone.  Had  I  known  that 
your  poor  lady  and  little  Siani  were  alone,  I  should 
certainly  have  gone  in  and  endeavoured  to  com- 
fort  " 

Pengraig  slipped  a  little  sigh  of  relief.  His  wife's 
vision,  or  warning,  had  not  yet  reached  the  ears  of 
the  newcomer,  then.  His  spirits  rose.  '  Yes,  yes ; 
go  on,  young  gentleman,"  prompted  he  quizzically, 
as  the  other  hesitated.  '  We  are  coming  on  finely. 
I  did  not  know  that  it  was  my  wife  you  were  after — 
for  I  do  not  suppose  it  is  little  Siani  in  the  nursery 
whom  you  would  have  got  down  to  comfort.  Now 
I  had  thought  it  had  been  her  elder  sister,  Mistress 
Mari,  that  attracted  you.  Oho !  This  is  a  pretty 


12  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

marry-come-up   for   an   unsuspecting  husband  and 
father  to  stumble  upon.     Yea,  indeed!  " 

The  young  man's  face  changed  from  red  to  white 
as  he  listened  to  the  raillery,  fidgeting  in  the  saddle 
the  while.  But  he  screwed  his  courage  and  sat  bolt 
upright  in  replying:  "It  is  true,  sir,  that  I  was 
more  than  attracted  by  your  daughter  Mari.  But 
as  soon  as  I  found  that  she  was  pledged  to  another 
I  fought  down  the  notion,  until,  when  I  started  on 
this  errand  to  you,  sir,  I  believed  that  I  had  thor- 
oughly tutored  myself.  It  was  only  when  I  came 
in  sight  of  your  gateway  that  my  courage  failed  me 
— and  that  was  why  I  turned  away." 

"  One  moment,  Ithel.  To  whom  is  my  daughter 
pledged  ?  This  is  the  first  I  hear  of  it — it  would 
seem  that  I  really  have  stumbled  upon  a  piece  of 
news." 

'  Why,  sir,"  answered  the  young  man  in  pure 
surprise,  "  I  supposed  you  knew  all  about  it,  or  I 
should  not  have  mentioned  it.  As  it  is,  sir,  I  beg 
you  will  not  press  me  further  on  the  matter " 

"  Enough  on  that  point,"  interrupted  the  other 
quickly.  "  One  other  thing,  however;  was  it  my 
daughter  herself  who  told  you  this  ?  " 

'  Why — no,"  stammered  the  young  man.  "  I — 
that  is,  sir " 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  13 

"  And  enough  on  that  point  too,"  broke  in  Pen- 
graig  briskly  again.  "  I  should  be  loath  to  tell  a 
young  man  whom  I  love  that  he  is  a  fool;  but — 
Ithel,  I  am  somewhat  astonished  to  hear  such  a  tale 
from  you.  Some  misunderstood  word,  dropped 
casually,  I'll  warrant,  and  misconstrued  in  a  moment 
of  pique;  and  then  you  brood  upon  it  till  you  find  a 
whole  volume  of  set  meaning  and  innuendo  in  the 
poor  half-dozen  letters  of  it,  and  so  end  up  by 
'  tutoring  '  yourself.  Fie  on  you,  for  a  proud  young 
romantic,  who  must  establish  his  suit  by  a  whole 
hecatomb  of  dragons  slain  on  his  lady's  behalf,  and 
who  must  thereupon  have  his  lady  straightway  fall 
into  his  arms,  together  with  her  whole  kingdom, 
exclaiming,  '  I  am  all  yours — take  me." 

Foh,  lad,  take  nobody's  word  but  the  lady's 
own,  and  don't  even  take  that  unless  you  feel  in- 
clined. I  never  interfere  in  these  matters,  but  I 
want  to  see  you  bestir  yourself.  So !  " 

Ithel  listened  to  the  half-bantering  tone  with  a 
face  brightening  at  every  word.  By  the  time  it  was 
ended  he  sat  in  his  saddle  as  if  a  fresh  horse  were 
under  it.  '  Why,  sir,"  began  he;  then  breaking 
off,  "  But  I  wish  you  would  speak  to  lolyn  *  and 
'  tutor'  him.  He  does  more  than  deserve  it.  All 
*  =  Yollin. 


14  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

the  way  from  London  he  has  ridden  behind  me  like 
a  lackey,  just  as  he  is  sitting  yonder  now.  I  warned 
him  that  you  would  be  angry  also,  but  he  said  I 
could  not  tell  till  we  found  you — and  he  stuck  stub- 
bornly to  that  miserable  two  lengths  in  rear." 

Pengraig's  face  softened  instantly.  "  Poor  lad," 
said  he  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  wondered  what  his 
notion  was  ";  then,  loud  enough  to  reach  the  one 
behind:  "Come,  lolyn,  lad,  and  say  good  day  to 
me.  Come,  the  play  is  over;  you  have  had  your 
prank;  now  ride  soberly  alongside.  You  cannot 
pass  for  a  lackey  in  any  case. ' ' 

The  young  fellow  addressed  yielded  so  far  as  to 
come  within  one  length  of  the  others,  but  there  he 
checked  stubbornly.  "  I  can  pass  for  a  lackey,  and 
think  myself  fortunate  at  that.  Was  not  my 

mother " 

'  There,  there,  lad,"  broke  in  Pengraig  hastily, 
as  he  spurred  instantly  alongside  him  and  seized 
his  hand.  "  Never  mind  that  now;  the  day  has 
come  at  last,  thank  heaven,  when  we  can  put  an 
end  to  all  those  horrible  deeds  done  in  the  name 
of  law.  And  you  are  riding  with  us  to  the  chang- 
ing of  it.  Think  of  that,  and  ride  quietly  along 
with  me." 

"Oho!"  cried  the  lad,  his  eyes  flashing  in  his 


FOR    THE   WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  15 

face  like  sheet  lightning  through  a  dusky  summer 
night.    ."  And  we  will  burn  the  canting  chafferers 
of  Ludgate;  and  we  will  hang  Gwgan  *  Maddox, 
for  he  is  a  Whig,  as  well  as  the  son  of  his  father." 
*  Welsh  w  here  is  like  English  oo. 


CHAPTER    II 

NEVERTHELESS,  when  they  started  forward  again, 
lolyn  dropped  back  to  his  former  distance,  and,  after 
one  hasty  glance  at  his  face,  Pengraig  tacitly  acqui- 
esced in  the  position.  "Poor  lad,"  whispered  he 
to  Ithel,  "  we  must  humour  him  for  the  moment;  it 
will  wear  off  in  a  day  or  two,  no  doubt.  But  I  sup- 
pose it  is  the  near  prospect  of  seeing  the  Hanove- 
rian sent  packing  that  has  so  seriously  upset  him — 
that,  and  perhaps  some  foolish  taunt  of  Maddox's. " 

'  Why,  sir,  there  was  a  very  brisk  passage  be- 
tween them  a  day  or  two  before  we  left  London." 
Meredith  spoke  in  the  same  low  tone  as  the  other. 
'  You  remember,  sir,  the  old  weapon,  the  bidogan, 
that  lolyn  bought  from  the  harper  of  Dinas  Mow- 
ddy  ?  Well,  he  drew  that  upon  Mr.  Maddox, 
because  he  threatened  him  with  the  gallows.  I 
managed  to  get  between  them  and  hinder  lolyn  till 
the  other  could  escape  by  the  door.  But  his  folly 
came  near-hand  costing  him  his  life ;  I  hope  it  will 
be  a  warning  to  him." 

"  If  it  is  not,"  broke  out  Pengraig  indignantly, 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  I/ 

"  then  I  will  read  Mr.  Maddox  a  lesson  that  shall 
be  one.  He  makes  me  mad  at  times.  Hang  it — 
but  there,  there,  it  will  be  some  time  till  we  see 
him  again,  and  things  will,  I  hope,  have  altered  so 
much  that  he  will  have  other  subjects  to  joke  about. 
And  now,  enough  of  that — tell  me  how  things  look 
in  London  for  our  cause." 

'  Wynstay  hath  been  so  busy,  sir,  that  all  the 
town  talks  of  nothing  but  Sir  Watkin,  and  so  much 
believes  in  his  words  that  no  one  will  accept  of  place 
or  office  in  this  Government.  ,  To  take  office  now 
would  be  to  lose  it  when  the  Prince  comes,  say 
they.  And  so  you  can  judge  that  the  city  is  in  a 
pretty  upset." 

"  So  like  Wynstay,"  smiled  Pengraig.  "  As  ready 
as  a  mastiff  to  worry  the  Hanoverian.  But  do  you 
think  he  will  be  able  to  get  the  militia  of  the  city 
to  rise — and  who  is  to  bring  out  North  Wales  if  he 
stops  much  longer  in  town  ? " 

"  Nay,  sir,  he  hath  already  left  London  for 
Wynstay  to  gather  his  kindred.  If  your  way  lies 
by  Wynstay,  sir " 

"  My  way  lies  to  Wynstay,  not  only  by  it,"  re- 
turned the  other  promptly. 

"  And  do  you  take  any  force  with  you,  sir  ?  "  haz- 
arded Ithel. 


1 8  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

"  No,  not  yet.  This  must  be  no  ragged  rising  by 
parishes,  for  beadles  and  tipstaves  to  put  down.  I 
have  been  with  the  Duke  of  Beaufort,  and  the 
whole  plan  is  settled  for  South  Wales.  Now  I  am 
going  to  confer  with  Wynstay,  who  has  settled  the 
case  for  North  Wales,  and  we  are  then  to  bring  the 
two  movements  into  line;  after  which  I  am  to  ride 
north  at  once  and  lay  the  nation's  offer  at  the  feet 
of  Charles  Edward,  the  Prince  Regent,  who  will 
transmit  his  further  commands  in  the  matter.  That 
is  why  I  go  without  even  my  own  tenants.  The 
rising  is  to  be  the  rising  of  the  whole  nation  as  one 
man,  so  that  Hanover  may  see  how  deep  is  our 
abhorrence  of  all  usurpers." 

"It  is  a  grand  idea,  if  only  it  be  fulfilled,"  said 
Meredith  fervently. 

"Aye,  we  have  planned  with  care.  What  men 
can  do  in  preparation  we  have  done,  and  now  the 
issue  lies  in  God's  hands.  If  we  fail,  it  will  be  be- 
cause He  has  some  mysterious  purpose  in  view; 
something  beyond  our  weak  and  finite  understand- 
ing. But  I  trust  it  to  Him  with  a  quiet  mind." 

They  rode  in  silence  for  a  short  distance,  and  then, 
rousing  from  a  reverie,  "  And  as  to  yourself,  Ithel  ? " 
queried  Pengraig. 

"  Why,  sir,   '  My  foot  is  in   the  stirrup  and  my 


FOR   THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  ig 

sword  is  on  my  thigh.'  When  we  come  to  Wyn- 
stay  we  shall,  no  doubt,  find  the  Head  of  my  Kin- 
dred there,  and  he  will  call  on  me,  unless — unless 
you  yourself  have  some  more  important  task  for 
me,  sir  ?  "  ended  Ithel  questioningly. 

"  Some  more  important  task,"  repeated  the  other 
meditatively.  "  In  any  case,  there  is  one  task  for 
which  you  are  most  fit :  a  task  which  must  be  done 
before  your  Chief  needs  you.  I  shall  have  to  re- 
main with  the  Prince  when  once  I  join  him,  because 
I  have  all  the  threads  of  the  plot  in  my  mind  and 
so  can  give  him  any  information  he  needs  from  day 
to  day.  Thus,  I  shall  want  a  trusty  messenger  to 
carry  his  commands  back  to  Wynstay,  setting  the 
time  and  place  for  the  rising  of  Wales.  Now,  Sir 
Watkin  knows  you  for  a  bold  rider  to  hounds,  and 
I  know  you  for  a  pretty  man  with  your  weapons. 
You  shall  be  our  messenger,  and  I  will  warrant  you 
with  the  Head  of  your  kin." 

"  I  am  very  deeply  indebted  to  you,  sir,"  replied 
Ithel,  restraining  his  gladness  with  difficulty  from 
breaking  into  a  torrent  of  words  of  thanks. 

They  rode  over  the  next  mile  or  two  in  silence,' 
all  their  attention  being  needed  to  help  their  horses 
in  the  storm-channelled  and  boulder-strewn  track, 
by  courtesy  called  .a  road,  which  they  were  follow- 


20  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE  OF  ARNO 

ing.  Presently  they  reached  a  more  decent  stretch, 
and  here  Pengraig  looked  up  with  a  quick  and 
kindly  glance  at  his  companion. 

"  And  there  is  someone  else  whom  we  are  likely 
to  meet  at  Wynstay, "  he  broke  out  quizzically,  as  if 
some  pleasantry  had  driven  all  weightier  matters  out 
of  his  head.  "  You  remember  that  my  wife,  though 
born  in  London,  was  a  Kyffin,  and  so — what  think 
you,  Meredith? — my  daughter,  Mistress  Mari,  none 
other,  is  at  present  visiting  amongst  her  mother's 
kindred.  Will  the  Head  of  that  kindred  claim  her, 
think  you,  to  follow  with  the  rest  to  the  field  ? " 

"  If  he  does,"  cried  Ithel,  putting  a  bold  counte- 
nance of  jest  upon  his  confusion,  "  then  I  will  re- 
open the  old  feud.  Waenddu  is  still  without  a 
boundary;  I  will  build  up  the  old  wall  again  and 
keep  guard  upon  it.  That  will  fetch  every  Kyffin  of 
them  all  back  from  the  Prince's  army,  even  from  the 
very  field  of  battle,"  ended  he,  with  a  broad  smile. 

"  Like  the  bad  old  days,  when  the  most  important 
war  was  always  the  one  at  a  man's  own  gate,  for  his 
trumpery  erw*  of  plough-land,"  took  up  Pengraig, 
smiling  too.  "Ah,  well!  Ah,  well!  We  shall  see," 
ended  he,  relapsing  again  into  silence. 

*  erw  =  the  amount  of  land  which  a  team  of  four  oxen  could  plough 
in  one  day. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  21 

Next  day  they  found  companions  for  their  ride. 
Drawing  rein  at  Courtfield  of  the  Vaughans,  they 
found  that  the  heir  of  that  house,  young  Richard 
Vaughan,  was  ready  saddled  for  the  wars,  bound 
thither  under  the  guidance  of  William  Vaughan,  his 
uncle. 

From  this  place,  therefore,  they  travelled  forward 
as  a  company  of  seven,  four  gentlemen  and  three 
servants,  for  lolyn  still  stubbornly  persisted  in  play- 
ing the  part  of  lackey.  Calling,  then,  at  the  houses 
of  all  such  gentlemen  of  note  and  Heads  of  Kin- 
dred as  lay  in  their  route,  they  pushed  on  steadily 
until,  in  the  afternoon  of  a  still,  bright  day  in 
November,  they  checked  at  the  gates  of  the  great 
park  of  Wynstay. 

The  porter  at  the  lodge  answered  readily  to 
the  questioning  of  Pengraig.  '  Yea,  the  hall 
is  full  of  gentlemen,  for  it  is  a  meeting  day  of 
the  Cycle  Club,*  as  well  as  a  mustering  of  many 
kindreds." 

'  Then  we  are  come  at  the  right  hour,"  quoth 
Pengraig  heartily  to  the  others.  '  The  Cycle  Club 
is  to  furnish  us  with  three  hundred  horse,  one  half 

*  The  Cycle  Club  was  a  club  composed  of  the  Jacobite  gentlemen — 
i.e.,  all  the  gentlemen — within  a  radius  of  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  of 
Wrexham,  excluding  Cheshire. 


22  FOR   THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

of  whom  will  be  gentlemen  of  descent.      We  shall 
be  well  met,  I  trow." 

A  fever  of  impatience  seemed  to  seize  all  the 
party,  till  quite  unconsciously  each  crowded  his 
horse  into  a  trot,  which  would  have  speedily  become 
a  gallop  down  the  long  avenue,  had  not  Pengraig 
come  to  himself. 

"  Nay,  gentlemen,"  cried  he  with  a  laugh,  "  this 
is  not  the  enemy  in  front.  We  are  as  eager  as  boys 
to  the  fair.  Steady,  now,  or  they  will  take  us  for 
the  usurper's  dragoons  and  receive  us  with  musketry 
instead  of  handshakes." 

All  laughed  as  they  drew  down.  "  Aye,"  cried 
young  Richard  Vaughan,  "  I  can  hear  their  voices 
already.  The  hall  must  be  crowded." 

'  Then  there  must  be  a  regiment  already  met," 
returned  Pengraig  jocosely;  "  nothing  less  would 
crowd  the  great  hall  of  Wynstay.  But  here  we  are, 
and  here,  too,  is  Sir  Watkin  himself,"  added  he,  as 
they  emerged  from  the  denser  woodland  and  came 
suddenly  upon  the  lawn  in  front  of  the  house  of 
Wynstay  itself. 

Here  all  the  scene  was  full  of  life  and  colour. 
Groups  of  brightly  dressed  gentlemen  lounged  or 
stood  about,  while  here  and  there  were  knots  of  gaily 
attired  ladies,  surrounded  by  little  courts  of  light- 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  23 

hearted  gallants,  giving  still  greater  animation  to 
the  picture.  The  patch  that  lent  piquancy  to  the 
cheek  of  beauty;  the  powder  that  added  dignity 
to  the  heads  of  manly  wearers;  the  deep  lace 
fringes  of  the  dainty  aprons  of  the  former  and  the 
shine  of  the  polished  shoe-buckles  of  the  latter — all 
showed  that  it  was  a  full-dress  occasion,  and  accord- 
ingly our  young  man,  Ithel  Meredith,  lord  of  Pres- 
gwyn,  felt  a  chill  which  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
weather,  as  he  reflected  that  he  was  habited  only  for 
camps,  and  not  for  courts. 

Then  he  forgot  his  appearance,  as  his  eye,  ranging 
furtively  out  of  one  corner,  caught  a  glimpse  of  a 
figure  that  made  him  look  swiftly  away,  his  hands 
trembling  a  little  and  his  pulses  playing  pit-a-pat. 
He  had  seen  that  she  looked  up  also,  but  he  was 
too  far  off  to  note  the  sudden  paleness  of  her  face, 
and  was,  further,  too  fearfully  afraid  of  being  caught 
looking  at  her  to  see  that  she  immediately  extri- 
cated herself  from  all  the  throng  of  gallants,  and 
took  her  perturbed  way  for  a  stroll  beneath  the  trees 
of  the  near  woodland. 

And  he  was  not  conspicuously  at  his  ease  in  ex- 
changing greetings  with  the  lord  of  Wynstay,  when 
that  massive-fronted  knight  stepped  out  of  his  own 
especial  group  to  welcome  the  newcomers.  But 


24  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

Sir  Watkin  had  weightier  matters  to  engross  his 
mind,  and  his  first  words  to  Pengraig,  after  the 
punctilio  of  welcome,  effectually  banished  all  vague- 
ness from  the  mind  of  Ithel  as  well  as  Pengraig 
himself. 

"Ah,  Pengraig,"  said  Sir  Watkin,  "you  would 
hardly  believe  the  strides  our  cause  has  made  in 
London  these  last  few  days.  Here  is  none  other 
than  your  own  ward,  Mr.  Maddox,  arrived  this  very 
day;  having  ridden,  rain  and  shine,  from  London 
hither,  as  a  late  recruit  to  Prince  Charles." 

"  Gwgan  Maddox !  Impossible,"  broke  out  the 
other  in  astonishment.  "  At  least — that  is,  but, 
tell  me,  have  you  accepted  him  ?" 

'  What  else  could  I  do  ?  He  came  here  and  im- 
mediately sought  out  his  father's  tribe  and  claimed 
kinship.  The  Head  of  his  Kindred  naturally  de- 
sires to  have  as  many  gentlemen  of  his  own  with 
him  as  possible,  and  so  he  welcomed  the  young 
man  at  once,  and  thus  took  the  matter  out  of  our 
hands.  But  they  also  look  to  you  to  countenance 
him,  since  he  is  still  your  ward." 

"  That  is  true,"  returned  Pengraig  readily.  '  I 
am  his  guardian  till  he  be  twenty-five,  and  that  is  not 
till  some  two  months  yet.  Well,  well,  I  cannot  say 
that  he  was  ever  a  rabid  Whig:  that  was  mostly  put 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  2$ 

on  betwixt  him  and  lolyn.  And,  again,  there  was 
nothing  much  against  him  in  the  matter  of  his  fits 
of  roystering,  since  that  is  the  way  of  young  men; 
and  I  never  heard  any  serious  charge  brought  against 
him  under  that  head.  So,  so ;  and  we  will  be  a  little 
careful  of  him  for  a  day  or  two  till  we  see  him  well 
set  in  his  new  principles — 

"  Ah,  and  we  must  also  allow  for  the  effect  of  the 
Prince's  success,"  added  Sir  Watkin.  'The  tid- 
ings of  the  victory  of  Gladsmuir,  or  Prestonpans, 
have  gone  like  lightning  through  England,  loosening 
all  ties  to  the  usurper's  cause.  There  have  been 
some  notable  coolnesses  among  his  friends  and  coun- 
cil, since  that.  Perhaps  this  case  of  your  ward  is 
one  of  them." 

"Let  us  hope  so,"   returned  the  other  heartily. 

'  Why,  here  he  comes " 

'  To  pay  his  respects  to  his  guardian,"  added  Sir 
Watkin  drily,  changing  the  speech  to  English. 

The  young  gentleman  whose  approach  caused 
these  last  remarks  was  a  slack-lipped  specimen  of 
the  young  blood  of  the  period.  Everything  about 
him  was  of  the  latest  fashion,  even  to  the  dubious, 
half-jaunty,  half-suspicious  look  in  his  face  as  he 
came  up.  He  had  pushed  the  mode  to  the  very 
edge :  his  breeches  were  gartered  a  hand-breadth 


26  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO 

above  the  knee;  his  stockings  of  scarlet  silk  were 
clocked  with  gold ;  the  ruffles  at  his  wrists  hung  be- 
low his  finger-tips.  His  neckcloth  was  of  the  most 
delicate  lace,  his  wig  of  the  tie  of  the  moment;  the 
hat  under  his  arm  of  a  cock  not  yet  settled,  so  far 
in  the  front  of  fashion  was  it ;  while  over  all  he 
glittered  with  gold,  from  the  lace  on  the  flaps  of  his 
waistcoat  pockets  to  the  engraved  head  and  mount- 
ings of  his  elegant  walking-cane. 

If  clothes  could  have  made  a  man,  then  Gwgan 
Maddox  would  have  been  a  man  to  wonder  at. 

And  his  manners,  too.  They  had  all  the  forms  of 
the  most  exclusive  and  select  leaders,  but,  as  he 
went  through  them,  you  saw  at  once  that  the 
inward  and  spiritual  grace  was  not  only  lacking, 
but  wa.s  substituted  by  a  certain  something  which 
would  have  approached  veiled  insolence  in  a  franker 
face. 

The  contrast  betwixt  his  face  and  figure,  redolent 
of  town  and  tailor,  as  he  bent  in  bowing  to  his  guar- 
dian, compared  with  the  latter's  firm  yet  mobile 
mouth,  clear  glance,  kindly  eye,  and  strongly  knit 
figure  dressed  in  riding  apparel,  was  enough  to  have 
caught  the  notice  of  the  most  casual  stroller.  But 
Pengraig  had  no  severity  for  the  little  follies  of 
youth ;  he  was  only  wondering  what  had  moved  this 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  27 

bird  of  fine  plumage  to  brave  the  mud  and  rain  of 
autumn  roads,  in  order  to  join  an  enterprise  such  as 
was  now  in  hand. 

'"  Ha!  Gwgan,"  said  he,  "  so  you  have  decided  to 
cast  in  your  lot  with  King  James,  eh  ?  Well,  well, 
better  late  than  never,  and  I  suppose  you  have  re- 
membered that  the  new  court  will  want  new  cour- 
tiers— and  who  so  fit  to  be  one  as  Gwgan  Maddox  ? 
say  you,  no  doubt.  Aye,  well,  and  so  your  Pen- 
cenedl*  has  claimed  you.  I  hope  you'll  give  a 
good  account  of  your  guardian's  ward." 

Before  Maddox  could  mince  a  reply,  he  was  star- 
tled out  of  his  jaunty  carriage  entirely  by  the  jingle 
of  a  bridle  in  his  ear.  When  the  rest  dismounted, 
lolyn  had  stubbornly  remained  sitting  in  the  saddle, 
and  now,  as  he  saw  the  young  man  bowing  and 
mowing  before  the  other,  he  spurred  up  so  close 
that  the  bit-rings  rested  on  Gwgan's  shoulder. 

"Oho!  Gwgan  Maddox,   the  Whig!      Welcome 
to  you.      I  am  servant  to  Pengraig  and  Presgwyn; 
I  will  be  servant  to  you  also." 
Maddox  stepped  hastily  back. 
"  Oh,  it  is  poor  lolyn,"  said  he,  as  if  pityingly. 
"  But  never  mind,  lolyn,  I  shall  not  trouble  you  to 
wait  on  me  also.     I   brought  a  servant  with  me, 

*  Pencenedl  =  head  of  kindred,  chief  of  tribe. 


28  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

and,  if  you  like,  he  shall  teach  you  your  duties  prop- 
erly.    I  always  said  you  needed  teaching." 

"  Only,"  put  in  Pengraig  drily,  "  as  lolyn  never 
was  a  servant,  any  more  than  he  is  one  now,  I  think 
he  may  dispense  with  the  teachings  of  this  paragon 
of  yours,  just  as  he  can  dispense  with  that  tone  of 
yours.  And  you,  lolyn,"  he  went  on,  turning  to 
the  lad,  "  what  manner  of  greeting  was  that  to  ad- 
dress to  a  gentleman  ?  Back,  sir,  and  keep — 

' '  My  place, ' '  interposed  lolyn  grimly,  reining  back 
as  he  spoke,  while  the  glare  seemed  to  quiver  in  his 
eyes.  "  I  did  but  welcome  him  to  this  last  chapter 
of  his  life,  as  I  shall  cry  his  epitaph  at  its  close." 

Pengraig  would  have  checked  him  still  more 
sternly,  but  the  finikin  Maddox  put  in  before  him. 

"  Never  heed  him,  sir;  it  is  only  poor  lolyn's 
way.  We  all  know  poor  lolyn." 

Hang  you,  sir,"  retorted  Pengraig,  "  you  make 
me  mad  with  your  mee-maws  and  your  prickings  of 
him.  But  I  warn  you  that  you  have  about  come  to 
the  end  of  your  tether  there.  I  bid  you  go  more 
warily,  lest  you  go  too  far  and  find  it  out  too  late!  " 

Meanwhile  lolyn  had  turned  rein  for  the  stables, 
repeating  to  himself  over  and  over  again  as  he  went : 
"  Gwgan  Maddox  and  the  servant  of  Gwgan  Mad- 
dox! But  I  will  look  after  them  both." 


CHAPTER    III 

OUR  four  travellers  were  presently  ushered  into 
a  single  spacious  chamber  upstairs,  where  the  kins- 
man of  their  host,  who  filled  the  office  of  his  mar- 
shal and  led  them  thither,  paused  to  crave  pardon 
for  such  a  crowded  manner  of  quartering  them. 
'  You  have  yourselves  seen,  gentlemen,  that  the 
house  is  more  than  full,  and  there  are  Lord  Barry- 
more  and  the  Cheshire  squires  yet  to  arrive.  But  I 
will  send  up  bedding  enough  so  that  you  shall  have 
each  his  own  couch,  and  for  the  rest  I  hope  you  will 
not  think  us  lacking  in  due  regard  for  such  honour- 
able guests  as  yourselves." 

'Trouble  no  further  on  that  head,"  answered 
Pengraig  promptly  for  the  rest.  '  Wynstay  is  not 
a  place  to  lose  its  reputation  at  this  time  of  the  day. 
What  other  house  could  have  accommodated  us  half 
so  well  ?  Rest  easy  so  far  as  we  are  concerned." 

Thus  assured,  the  marshal  departed,  and  presently 
the  two  servants  of  the  Vaughans  appeared,  headed 
by  lolyn,  bringing  in  the  valises  of  all  four  gentle- 
men in  order  that  they  might  make  some  slight 


30  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO 

change  of  apparel  before  joining  the  company  on  the 
lawn.  The  scene  that  had  passed  below  on  the 
meeting  with  Maddox  had,  however,  invested  lolyn 
with  such  an  interest  for  the  Vaughans  that  both  of 
them  now  observed  him  as  closely  as  politeness 
would  permit  or  natural  good  breeding  sanction. 

Pengraig  both  saw  and  understood  the  feeling  in 
them,  and  accordingly,  as  soon  as  lolyn  had  left  the 
room,  he  spoke. 

"  A  strange-looking  servant  that,"  remarked  he, 
with  a  sad  smile. 

"  I  do  confess  that  he  has  little  of  the  servant  in  his 
appearance  or  manner,"  answered  William  Vaughan. 
'  You  are  right,"  went  on  Pengraig,  "  so  lithe  and 
shapely  as  he  is,  and  so  handsome,  saving  for  the 
light  that  sometimes  kindles  in  his  eyes.  It  is  a 
weary  world  in  some  things,  and  poor  lolyn's  story 
is  surely  one  of  the  most  horrible  ever  known  in  it. 

"  Born  in  London,  he  was  born  into  a  tragedy 
indeed.  His  father  was  a  flourishing  merchant,  a 
younger  son  of  Jones  of  Haim,  of  the  tribe  of 
Tudor  Mawr.  His  mother,  young  and  handsome, 
had  not  recovered  from  the  birth  of  this,  her  second 
child,  when  suddenly  her  husband  disappeared; 
snapped  up  by  the  press-gang,  as  was  discovered 
afterwards.  There  being  no  one  to  carry  on  his  busi- 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  31 

ness,  his  creditors  stepped  in  and  stripped,  not  alone 
his  offices  and  warehouse,  but  his  house  as  well. 
They  seized  the  very  bed  from  under  the  still  weak 
mother,  and — Heaven  remember  it  forever  against 
the  abandoned  wretches — turned  her  in  that  condi- 
tion into  the  streets  to  perish. 

"  She — well,  gentlemen,  you  can  imagine  her  con- 
dition of  mind,  as  well  as  body.  There  had  been 
about  that  time  a  succession  of  petty  thefts  from 
the  shops  of  Ludgate  Hill,  and  possibly  the  hearing 
of  these  things  suggested  to  her  misery  a  means  of 
stilling  for  a  single  moment  the  gnawings  of  abso- 
lute hunger. 

"  Herself  starving,  distracted  by  the  thought  of 
her  children  perishing  in  her  arms  for  want  of  food, 
this  poor  girl — for  she  was  but  nineteen — went  into 
one  of  those  shops  and  lifted  a  piece  of  linen  from 
the  counter.  The  shopkeeper  saw  her  before  she 
had  time  to  try  and  conceal  it  beneath  her  rags, 
and,  seeing  that  she  was  detected,  she  replaced  it 
on  the  counter.  That  was  the  sum  and  substance 
of  her  crime. 

'  Well,  she  was  brought  to  trial,  and  her  defence 
before  the  judge  was  pathetic  enough  to  have  moved 
a  heart  of  stone.  Said  she :  '  I  lived  in  comfort  and 
wanted  for  nothing  till  the  press-gang  stole  my  hus- 


32  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

band  from  me.  But  since  then  I  have  had  no  bed 
to  lie  on  and  nothing  to  give  my  children,  though 
they  be  starving  and  almost  naked.  I  know  I  have 
done  wrong,  but  I  did  not  know  what  I  did  at  the 
time — grief  had  crazed  me.' 

"  Now,  gentlemen,  the  parish  officers  corrobo- 
rated her  story,  but  it  was  argued  against  her  that 
there  had  been  a  good  deal  of  shoplifting  about 
Ludgate,  and  that  another  example  of  death  was 
therefore  necessary.  So," — the  voice  of  Pengraig 
rose  in  fierce  passion  as  he  continued — "  so,  in  this 
most  Christian  realm  of  Britain,  the  wretched  Mary 
Jones  was  told  that  she  must  be  hanged  for  the  sat- 
isfaction of  a  few  tradesmen  on  Ludgate  Hill! 

"  But  come  we  to  the  accursed  conclusion.  When 
brought  up  to  receive  sentence,  she  was  in  such  a 
frantic  state  as  proved  that  her  reason  had  vanished. 
Yet  she  was  taken  to  Tyburn  and  executed,  or 
rather  murdered,  in  a  state  of  unconscious  delirium, 
whilst  the  youngest  of  her  two  babes  was  still  suck- 
ing at  her  breast ! 

"God!  gentlemen,  when  I  think  of  it  my  very 
flesh  crawls  on  my  bones  with  horror,  and  at  times 
I  wonder  if  Heaven  slept!  "  * 

*  This  hideous  story  may  be  more  exactly  read  in  the  prints  of  the 
time  of  its  occurrence. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO  33 

Pengraig  broke  off  as  if  choked  with  anger,  and  it 
was  a  minute  or  two  before  the  elder  Vaughan  haz- 
arded a  word. 

"  I  remember  now.  I  heard  of  it  at  the  time, 
when  Sir  William  Meredith  denounced  it  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  declaring  '  that  a  fouler  murder 
was  never  committed  against  the  law,  than  the  mur- 
der of  this  poor  woman  by  the  law.'  ' 

"  And  was  lolyn  the  one "  hesitated  Richard 

Vaughan. 

'  Torn  from  his  mother's  arms  in  death  ?"  sup- 
plemented Pengraig.  '  Yes,  the  elder  one  was 
already  dead  of  privation  before  its  mother's  mur- 
der. I  had  just  arrived  in  London  from  South 
Wales  at  the  time,  and  so  I  took  him,  and  he  has 
lived  in  my  house  ever  since.  Moody  he  was  at 
times,  and  again  at  times  fantastically  merry :  some- 
times keeping  to  the  kitchen  for  days  together  and 
sometimes  to  my  study,  but  always  docile  and 
obedient  to  us  all. 

"  I  did  not  attempt  to  bring  him  up  to  any  trade 
or  profession,  since  he  was  hardly  of  the  stuff  which 
any  good,  easy  trader  would  care  to  take  apprentice; 
and,  besides,  some  little  property  early  accrued  to 
him  from  his  father's  family  which,  husbanded  till 

he  came  of  age,  will  quite  suffice  for  his  few  wants. 
3 


34  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

"  I  was  always  careful  to  keep  his  own  story  from 
him ;  but,  about  four  years  ago,  Mr.  Maddox  learnt 
it  accidentally,  and  then — but  perhaps  I  had  better 
explain  how  Mr.  Maddox  came  first  upon  the  scene. 

"  His  father  was  also  a  younger  son,  but  he  made 
a  good  fortune  in  London.  Dying  when  his  own 
son  was  about  eighteen,  he  left  me  executor  of  his 
will  and  guardian  of  the  lad  himself.  I  sent  the 
boy  to  Christ  Church,  my  own  old  college  at  Ox- 
ford, and  when  he  finished  there — not  very  high,  I 
grant  you — he  came  to  me  in  London.  It  was  while 
he  had  the  freedom  of  my  door-latch  that  he  dis- 
covered the  tragedy  of  lolyn's  beginning,  and  out  of 
sheer  mischief  and  thoughtlessness — as  I  imagine — 
taunted  him  with  it.  Whereupon  I  straightway 
started  my  Mr.  Maddox  upon  the  Grand  Tour. 

"  But  the  mischief  was  done,  and  for  a  while  I 
feared  that  my  poor  foster-son  would  end  by  be- 
coming hopelessly  and  violently  insane.  It  was  my 
eldest  daughter  who  gradually  won  him  back  to 
quietness — they  had  been  playmates  from  childhood. 
But  the  vague  restlessness  of  other  days  had  now 
given  place  to  two  distinct  moods ;  the  one,  the  com- 
mon or  ordinary  mood,  being  a  gentle  kindliness  to 
every  member  of  the  household,  and  the  other  a 
fierce  stubbornness,  born  of  some  unlucky  word  or 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  3$ 

incident  reminding  him  of  his  mother.  Therefore, 
when  Mr.  Maddox  returned  from  completing  the 
tour,  I  allowed  him  to  set  up  a  separate  lodging  of 
his  own,  in  order  to  guard  against  haphazard  meet- 
ings with  lolyn,  who  had  come  to  hate  him.  For,  in 
brooding  over  the  matter,  lolyn  had  taken  into  his 
head  that  the  father  of  Maddox  had  caused  his 
mother's  death  by  pursuing  her  with  a  dishonour- 
able passion,  and  that  when  his  mother  had  scorned 
all  his  advances  he  had  procured  the  kidnapping  of 
her  husband  by  the  press-gang,  and  had  also  insti- 
gated the  rancour  of  the  tradesmen  who  had  her 
arrested.  Nay,  he  even  believes  that  the  elder 
Maddox  paid  the  prosecuting  counsel  at  the  trial — 
so  that  you  may  see  how  the  cruel  injustice  really 
done  to  his  mother  has  brought  him  to  believe  pos- 
sible even  the  most  fiendish  ingenuity  of  cruelty  in 
another. 

"  Nor  can  any  arguments  of  mine  prevail  to  re- 
move the  notion  from  his  mind — for,  of  course,  not 
a  particle  of  evidence  exists,  so  far  as  I  ever  heard, 
to  sustain  such  a  dreadful  charge.  I  think  it  must 
have  been  some  servant's  gossiping  invention,  run- 
ning after  the  marvellously  horrible  in  true  servant 
style,  which  first  put  the  idea  into  his  head.  Lat- 
terly, however,  he  was  improving;  in  fact,  ever  since 


36  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

Mr.  Meredith,  here,  took  up  the  supposition  that  he 
was  reading  for  the  bar,  and  that,  of  all  the  barris- 
ters in  London,  I  was  the  only  one  fit  to  be  his 
teacher.  But,  gentlemen — this  in  parenthesis — 
though  our  student  was  most  punctual  in  his  attend- 
ance at  my  house,  and  never  in  any  way  eager  to 
watch  the  clock  for  release,  yet  I  fear  me  he  will 
never  become  much  of  a  lawyer.  All  that,  how- 
ever, was  forgiven  him,  because  poor  lolyn,  con- 
necting him  with  that  Sir  William  Meredith  who 
spoke  so  nobly  in  the  House  upon  his  mother's  case, 
struck  up  a  friendship  with  him,  only  second  in  its 
intensity  to  his  devotion  to  ourselves. 

"  And  now  that  you  know  the  poor  lad's  story, 
gentlemen,  you  will  no  longer  see  anything  strange 
in  his  actions,  and  will  be  not  at  all  astonished  should 
he  this  moment  take  a  notion  to  resume  his  proper 
position  amongst  us  as  a  gentleman — though  the 
presence  of  Mr.  Maddox  will,  I  fear,  only  intensify 
his  stubborn  fit. 

"  And  meanwhile,  let  us  down  to  the  lawn." 


CHAPTER   IV 

WHEN  the  party  reached  the  lawn,  Pengraig 
paired  immediately  with  Sir  Watkin  ;  the  Vaughans 
were  claimed  by  a  group  of  Catholic  Trevors — 
their  co-religionists — while  Ithel  found  himself  cast- 
ing furtive  glances  right  and  left,  in  hope  and  dread 
of  lighting  upon  the  form  of  Mari. 

Carefully  avoiding  the  gentlemen  of  his  own 
kindred,  lest  they  should  detain  him,  he  made  his 
way  till  he  came  upon  a  group  of  Kyffins,  her 
mother's  kin,  gay  with  the  flutter  of  fans  and  bright 
with  the  sparkle  of  bubbling  wit. 

One  sympathetic  member  of  it,  however,  smiling 
reposefully  on  the  edge  of  the  party,  gracefully  de- 
tached herself  long  enough  to  answer  his  grave  bow 
with  a  motherly  courtesy,  and  to  tell  him  that  Mari 
had  gone  for  a  stroll  under  the  trees — yonder.  As 
he  turned  to  follow  the  direction  he  felt  that  his 
face  was  telling  tales,  and  while  he  moved  away  he 
was  none  the  more  self-possessed  for  the  sudden 
interest  which  the  other  ladies  of  the  group  seemed 
all  at  the  same  instant  to  take  in  him. 


38  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

"  I  suppose  they  mistake  me  for  Maddox,"  said 
he  bitterly  to  himself  as  he  went.  "  It  must  be  so, 
since  by  this  time,  no  doubt,  her  father  is  the  only 
one  who  does  not  know  of  Mari's  engagement  to 
Maddox — though,  again,  it  is  possible  that  Maddox 
was  lying  when  he  told  me.  Ah,  well,  I'll  do  as 
Pengraig  advised,  and  put  the  question  plainly  to 
her  herself.  And  then  to-morrow  I  shall  go  to 
the  wars  with  a  light  heart ;  I  mean,  with  a  settled 
mind. 

"  But  what  a  pitiful  fop  that  Maddox  is!  " 

Thus  chewing  the  cud  of  self-torment,  he  pres- 
ently found  himself  deep  in  a  labyrinth  of  bare- 
boughed  trees.  A  little  farther,  and  he  caught 
the  sunlight  of  an  open  glade  ahead.  Then  the 
gleam  of  bright  rays  upon  the  soft  colours  of  a 
woman's  dress  held  him  footfast  for  an  instant 
till  he  could  gather  his  thoughts  and  get  himself  in 
hand. 

Under  a  giant  oak,  lord  dominant  of  all  the 
glade,  stood  Mari.  She  did  not  hear  his  foot  till 
he  was  close  upon  her,  and  there  were  tears  in  her 
eyes,  as  he  could  see  before  the  swift  blush  ran 
hotly  up  to  keep  them  from  falling.  But  a  second 
glance  at  his  face,  pale  with  the  emotion  which  his 
errand,  and  the  sight  of  her,  inspired,  brought  down 


FOR   THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  39 

the  blush  almost  as  swift  as  it  had  risen ;  while  the 
first  tone  of  his  voice,  aided  by  his  whole  manner, 
set  the  soft  eyes  welling  over  with  distress. 

The  sight  of  her  tears  drove  all  else  out  of  his 
mind.  "  Do  not  be  offended  with  me,"  cried  he. 
"  I  came  because  I  wished  so  much  to  comfort  you 
in  your  grief" — he  was  not  conscious  of  the  mis- 
take in  his  words,  his  heart  had  usurped  his  lips — 
"  perhaps  there  will  be  no  war,  after  all.  The  Han- 
overian may " 

The  pity  in  his  face  and  words  broke  her  down 
completely.  "  Oh,  my  father!  "  she  wailed.  "  Oh, 
he  will  be  surely  killed  in  your  dreadful  rebellion. 
Why  do  you  want  to  make  war  ?  Is  not  one  king 
as  good  as  another  ?  " 

He  felt  that  argument  was  no  comfort;  he  forgot 
that  such  a  one  as  Maddox  existed ;  he  remembered 
only  this  one  woman  weeping  and  the  hunger  in  his 
own  heart,  and  so — what  would  you  ? — he  put  his 
arms  about  her  to  soothe  her  as  if  she  had  been  his 
own  betrothed. 

But  in  the  midst  of  his  protestations  that  there 
was  no  danger  of  war,  and  yet  that  also  he  would 
protect  her  father  with  his  own  life,  and  so  forth 
and  so  on,  both  suddenly  realized  the  approach  of  a 
third  party,  and,  starting  apart,  looked  disconcert- 


40  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

edly  to  where,  not  ten  paces  away,  stood  Mr.  Gwgan 
Maddox — none  else. 

Bowing  ironically,  his  voice  vibrating  with  hatred, 
the  newcomer  was  the  first  to  break  the  startled 
silence.  "  Give  ye  good  day,  sir  and  madam," 
sneered  he.  '  The  scene  is  altogether  captivating 
and  romantic.  Gad !  I  must  turn  playwright  and 
introduce  it-r-Beauty  in  tears  and  Honour  as  com- 
forter. Lud  !  it  will  take  the  town — after  the  heads 
on  Temple  Bar  have  ceased  to  draw." 

"  Shame  on  you  for  your  ill-timed  jests!"  cried 
Ithel  scornfully.  "  Shame  on  you,  that  when  you 
should  be  doing  all  in  your  power  to  comfort  your — 
this  lady"  (he  had  suddenly  remembered  the  sup- 
posed engagement),  "  you  break  upon  her  tears  with 
your  cowardly  insinuations." 

"  '  Shame  '  and  '  cowardly  ' ;  how,  sirrah?  "  replied 
Maddox,  laying  his  hand  upon  his  sword.  But  his 
words  were  bigger  than  his  voice,  and  neither  did  he 
draw  the  blade,  for  all  his  threatening  motion. 

"  Aye,  both,"  returned  Ithel  recklessly,  his  voice 
coming  with  a  rush  to  the  challenge.  '  You,  who 
should  be  the  first  to  stand  up  for  her — here  you 
come,  and  at  the  first  glance  condemn  her  unheard 
and  straightway  hurl  insult  at  her.  Aye,  '  shame ! ' 
and  '  coward ! '  You  have  them  both  in  your  teeth, 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  41 

and  you  have  your  remedy  in  your  scabbard  if  you 
but  dare  to  draw." 

"  At  the  proper  time  I  shall  demand  a  satisfac- 
tion in  a  proper  manner.  All  in  good  time,"  said 
Maddox,  a  sickly  white  of  indecision  making  repul- 
sive all  his  features;  "  in  good  and  proper  time." 

"  A  good  time  cannot  come  too  soon,"  retorted 
Ithel  with  stinging  scorn;  "  and  the  proper  time  to 
avenge  an  insult  is  when  it  is  given,  all  other 
things  being  equal,  as  they  are  here." 

The  sting  struck  home  so  keen  as  to  flash  a  spark 
from  even  the  craven  heart  of  Gwgan  Maddox. 
With  a  shiver  of  elusive  resolution  he  half-drew  his 
blade. 

Instantly  out  flashed  that  of  his  taunter,  and  Mari 
gave  a  cry  of  terror  as  Ithel  advanced  towards  his 
opponent.  As  if  in  answer  to  the  cry,  a  latest  comer 
of  all  dashed  into  the  glade,  and  Gwgan  Maddox, 
glancing  quickly  over  his  shoulder  to  welcome  any 
interruption,  recoiled  a  long  leap  in  fresh  fear  as  he 
caught  sight  of  lolyn,  rushing  upon  him  with  the 
great  bidog*  uplifted  ready  to  strike. 

But  however  much  Mari  might  shrink  at  the  pros- 
pect of  a  duel,  a  deeper  dread  than  that  leaped  up 
in  her  heart  for  lolyn.  Springing  forward,  she  flung 

*  Bidog  =  Highland  bidag  =  dirk. 


42  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

both  arms  around  him  to  hold  him  fast,  at  the  same 
time  crying  to  Ithel  for  help. 

"  Oh,  help  me  to  hold  him!  Help  me,  or  he  will 
be  hanged  for  murder!  " 

Meredith  had  reached  her  almost  before  she  could 
speak,  but  he  found  to  his  astonishment  that  it  was 
all  he.  could  do  to  hold  the  right  arm  which  had  now 
escaped  from  Mari's  soft  clasp.  Seeing  that  the 
two  had  seized  lolyn,  Maddox  stayed  the  run  which 
he  had  already  commenced.  Halting  on  the  edge 
of  the  glade:  "  I  see,"  he  cried  in  a  shaken  voice; 
"  this  was  your  reason  for  pressing  me  to  an  instant 
duel.  You  had  provided  your  gallows  bird  to  stab 
me  in  the  back.  But  if  I  refrain  from  publishing 
your  infamy  abroad,  it  is  from  a  desire  to  spare  my 
guardian  and  not  from  any  love  for  you." 

The  transparent  balderdash  of  such  a  speech 
flushed  every  vein  of  Ithel  with  hot  disgust.  "  Go, 
you  cur!  "  he  shouted;  "  go,  or  I  will  drive  you  off 
with  your  own  cane,  and  thrash  you  on  the  lawn  in 
the  face  of  all  the  land." 

"  Ho!  Gwgan  the  Whig.  Come  back,  you  Dic- 
Shon-Dafydd ! "  *  yelled  lolyn  also,  and  at  the 
*  Dic-Shon-Dafydd  =  that  most  damnably  despicable  thing  which 
crawls  the  earth,  viz.,  a  man  who  affects  to  despise  his  own  nation 
and  language.  The  species  is  not  confined  to  Wales,  of  course  ;  but 
nowhere  else  is  it  held  in  deeper  detestation. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ^ROSE   OF  ARNO  43 

sound  of  his  desperate  voice  Maddox  sprang  away 
into  the  wood  as  if  from  a  wild  beast.  Moreover, 
he  saw  that  Ithel  could  not  long  continue  the  strug- 
gle, and  the  thought  put  his  feet  in  motion  to  escape 
while  there  was  yet  time.  With  the  cunning  of  the 
cur,  however,  he  went  but  half  the  distance  to  the 
lawn,  and  then,  pausing  to  see  if  he  were  being  fol- 
lowed, took  a  wide  circuit  and  doubled  back  to  a 
point  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  glade  to  that  at 
which  he  had  first  entered  it. 

As  soon  as  his  hateful  form  disappeared  from  sight, 
lolyn  ceased  his  struggles.  "  So  Gwgan  Maddox 
was  following  in  his  father's  footsteps,"  said  he  to 
Mari.  "  He  was  persecuting  you,  and  Ithel  was  de- 
fending you,  eh  ?  But  I  will  watch  him  closer  for 
the  future.  I  should  have  come  up  earlier  now,  but 
that  I  was  weighing  up  his  servant,  an  arrant  Whig 
and  a  spy  to  boot,  as  I  remember  to  have  seen  him, 
a  hanger-on  at  the  Duke  of  Newcastle's  in  London. 
So  when  I  came  on  to  the  lawn  it  was  only  in  time 
to  see  Maddox  disappear  this  way  in  the  trees.  I 
am  glad  I  followed." 

Neither  Mari  nor  Meredith  attempted  any  very 
vigorous  argument  against  the  lad's  notion,  for 
neither  of  them  cared  to  explain  the  scene  which 
Maddox  had  surprised.  But  Mari  was  so  eager, 


44  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

and  Ithel  so  earnest,  in  pleading  to  dissuade  him 
from  making  any  future  attempt  upon  the  object 
of  their  common  contempt,  that  at  length  he  cooled 
to  calm  reason.  "  Then  I  will  promise  not  to  speak 
to  him  again  while  we  are  at  Wynstay,"  yielded  he 
at  last. 

After  that,  a  curious  hesitancy  fell  upon  them 
for  a  moment  or  two.  Ithel  had  a  purpose  in  view, 
however,  and  so  he  plucked  up  a  desperate  courage 
to  serve  it. 

"  Don't  you  think  that  you  had  better  go  back 
first,  lolyn  ?  And  then,  if  Maddox  tells  any  cock 
and  bull  story  of  this  affair  you  will  hear  it,  and  can 
come  back  and  wait  for  us  at  this  edge  of  the  lawn 
to  tell  us,  so  that  we  can  decide  how  to  meet  it." 

This,  in  its  way,  was  as  transparent  a  speech  as 
the  final  one  of  Maddox.  But  lolyn  did  not  seem  to 
see  anything.  Instead,  he  answered  readily:  "  Oh, 
you  need  not  fear  that  Gwgan  Maddox  will  let  out 
a  word  of  this  affair  if  you  let  him  bide  quiet.  I 
warrant  you  he  is  even  now  skulking  in  some 
shadow  of  the  house,  biting  his  nails  and  shivering 
lest  he  hear  someone  talking  of  his  cowardice.  He 
will  keep  as  mum — oh,  he  will  be  only  too  thankful 
to  keep  his  mouth  shut,  lest,  if  he  told  a  word,  some 
one  of  the  listeners  might  offer  to  carry  a  challenge 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO  45 

from  him  to  you.  Oh,  I  know  these  Gwgans — these 
Dic-Shon-Dafydds— too  well  for  that." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  Still,  I  think  it  would  be 
wise  if  you  went,"  urged  Ithel. 

lolyn  looked  at  him,  and  then  a  light  seemed  to 
break  in  upon  him.  "  I  will,"  said  he,  starting 
away  as  suddenly  as  if  something  had  bitten  him. 

Mari  looked  swiftly  at  Ithel's  face,  and  then 
moved  as  if  she  would  have  fled  to  join  the  form 
just  disappearing  in  the  wood.  But  Meredith  held 
her  still  with  an  answering  look  and  a  half-uncon- 
scious gesture.  "  I  want  to  say  something,"  came 
with  soft  bluntness  from  his  lips. 

She  started  again  and  looked  about  as  if  to  escape, 
but  his  words  were  beginning  already.  '  Then  I 
was  wrong.  You  are  not  engaged  to  Maddox  ? " 
demanded  he. 

"  Oh,  no!  "  she  gasped  faintly,  looking  swiftly  up 
into  his  eyes.  That  word  and  that  look  loosed  all 
his  soul,  and  then — and  then  his  tongue  was  silver 
and  his  heart  was  fire  as  he  poured  out  the  torrent 
of  his  love  for  her.  What  matters  to  repeat  the 
individual  words  ?  It  is  the  tone  of  them,  the 
cadence  of  their  passionate  outpouring,  the  fire  of 
the  heart  that  gives  them  life,  the  radiance  of  the 
eyes  that  give  them  light,  the  touch  of  the  hand, 


46  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

the  pulsing  presence  of  the  one  beloved  above  all 
earth,  that  gives  their  immortality  to  such  mo- 
ments. 

And  Maddox  peered  and  watched  them  from  his 
hiding-place,  his  heart  all  arctic  and  his  eyes  all  hell 
with.unglutted  murder. 

Once,  even,  he  drew  a  pistol  from  beneath  his 
vest  as  if  he  would  level  it  at  them  and  consummate 
the  devilish  desires  in  his  breast.  But  he  had  not 
even  the  evil  courage  of  his  dastard  promptings,  and 
presently  he  returned  the  pistol  to  its  place,  wiping 
his  sickly  lips  with  a  hand  that  shook  with  the 
tugging  of  foul  temptation. 

And  when,  full  of  mutual  kisses  and  mutual  pro- 
testations, the  two  unconscious  lovers  finally  turned 
and  left  the  glade,  he  rose  and  craned  after  the  last 
glimpse  of  them,  muttering  to  himself  as  they  dis- 
appeared:  "  Yes,  Mistress  Mari,  and  you,  Mr.  Ithel 
Meredith  of  Presgwyn,  I'll  make  you  rue  the  day 
that  you  were  ever  born." 

He  should  certainly  have  become  a  playwright, 
should  Gwgan  Maddox  of — a  fashionable  address  in 
London. 


CHAPTER   V 

As  Ithel  and  Mari  sauntered  back  to  the  lawn, 
she  began  to  wonder  "  why  he  had  ever  dared  to 
think  that  she  was  plighted  to  such  a  person  as 
Maddox." 

"Pie  told  me  so  himself, ' '  returned  Ithel  promptly. 
"  Perhaps  I  ought  for  that  very  reason  to  have  dis- 
believed the  tale — he  was  ever  a  liar.  But  lolyn 
said  he  also  believed  it,  because  you  had  told  him 
that  if  anything  happened  to  Maddox  it  would 
grieve  you  to  the  heart.  What  could  I  do  but  be- 
lieve it  then  ? ' ' 

"  Oh,  what  shallow  wits  men  have,"  cried  Mari  in 
pretty  scorn.  '  Why,  I  only  told  him  that  because 
I  heard  him  breathing  threats  against  Mr.  Maddox, 
and  I  feared  that  in  some  stubborn  fit  he  might  kill 
him  in  a  fancied  avenging  of  his  poor  mother's  mur- 
der. But,  of  course,  I  could  not  say  what  I  really 
meant;  namely,  that  I  was  afraid  that  he  would  do 
murder  and  be  hanged  for  it.  To  mention  hang- 
ing is  to  remind  him  of  his  mother,  and  you  know 
what  the  effect  of  that  sometimes  is.  Therefore  I 


48  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

put  it  in  the  way  I  did — though  perhaps  that  was 
not  overwise  on  my  part,"  ended  she  frankly. 

'  Well "  began  Ithel.     And  then  he  changed 

the  word  upon  his  tongue,  for  he  was  too  new  a 
lover  to  blame  her  in  anything  just  yet.  '  What 
a  cur  that  Maddox  is!  "  substituted  he. 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  lawn  again,  and 
a  natural  hesitancy  checked  the  buoyant  steps  of 
both  as  they  caught  the  full  stroke  of  the  joyous 
picture  before  them. 

"  But  I  think  we  had  better  go  and  speak  to 
your  father,  sweetest  ?"  said  Ithei. 

A  blushing  assent  started  them  across  the  sward 
towards  the  spot  where  they  could  distinguish  Pen- 
graig,  still  deep  in  talk  with  Sir  Watkin.  The 
former  caught  sight  of  the  advancing  couple. 
"  Give  me  leave,"  said  he  hastily;  "  here  come  two 
young  turtle-doves  to  confess." 

"  And  a  bonnier  pair  I  never  saw,"  smiled  Sir 
Watkin  heartily,  as  he  turned  aside  for  a  moment. 

Next  moment  Mari  was  courtesying  in  sweet  con- 
fusion, while  Ithel  was  making  such  a  bow  as  he 
had  never  made  before. 

'Well?"  queried  Pengraig,   with  a   twinkle   in 
his  eye. 

"  I  took  your  advice,  sir,  and  asked  the  lady  her- 


FOR    7^HE    WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  49 

self,"  returned  Ithel  with  all  the  assurance  he  could 
muster. 

"  And,  of  course,  the  lady  rated  you  roundly  for 
not  doing  so  before.  Do  not  I  know  the  sly  puss  ? 
Why,  what  a  pother  it  all  is !  And  now  go  and  be  •, 
happy,  for  here  comes  Lord  Barrymore  and  a  whole 
corner  of  Cheshire.  God  bless  you  both,  and — 
but,  Ithel,  you  are  a  slyboots  too;  pretending  to 
read  for  the  law !  Fie !  is  that  what  you  read  in 
Blackstone — throwing  dust  in  a  father's  eyes  ?" 

"  But,  sir "  began  Ithel. 

"  Pooh!  pooh!"  broke  in  Pengraig  as  he  turned 
away.  '  Take  her,  and  be  happy !  Tush  !  man  ;  I 
suspected  you  from  the  first,  or  I  should  not  be  so 
easy  now.  But  who  was  the  one  you  were  so  quick 
to  believe  her  pledged  to  ?  "  He  hung  on  his  heel 
as  he  put  the  query. 

But  before  he  could  get  the  answer  Sir  Watkin 
had  seized  him  by  the  arm.  ;<  Pardon  me,  but  you 
must  break  off  and  come  to  greet  Barrymore. 
Weighty  matters  !  You  young  rogues,  you  !  "  ended 
he  over  his  shoulder  to  our  lovers,  as  he  bore  Pen- 
graig away. 

And  thus  the  latter  missed  the  information  which 
might  have  caused  him  to  take  steps  against  possible 
harm  from  Maddox,  since  he  was  not  free  again  to 


50  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO 

speak  to  Ithel  till  they  had  ridden  miles  upon  their 
road  next  morning. 

For  the  present,  however,  all  was  life  and  new 
bustle,  in  the  arrival  of  the  aged  Earl  of  Barrymore, 
with  some  twenty  or  thirty  gallant  squires  of  Chesh- 
ire in  his  train. 

"  This  is  the  one  whom  the  Whigs  call  the  old 
miser,"  quoth  Puleston  of  Pickhill  to  Puleston  of 
Emral,  standing  by  as  they  watched  the  newcomers 
dismount. 

"  And  what  will  the  same  Whigs  call  him  when 
they  find  what  he  scraped  and  pinched  for?"  put 
in  Eyton  of  Eyton. 

'  When  they  hear  his  money  clinking  down  to 
pay  our  troops  in  the  field,  eh  ? "  added  Eyton  of 
Coed  Llai. 

'  They'll  never  lack  for  names  while  they  can 
command  the  lampooners  of  London,"  answered 
Emral  with  a  laugh.  "  But  I  know  what  we  of  the 
Cycle  will  call  him  over  the  board  after  dinner  to- 
night." 

For  the  prime  rule  of  the  Cycle  Club,  enjoining 
that  dinner  should  be  a  midday  meal,  was  to  be  set 
aside  to-day  in  favour  of  a  dining  hour  at  dark.  It 
was  the  custom  of  the  time  and  place  that  the  gen- 
tlemen dined  alone  in  one  room,  the  ladies  in  an- 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  51 

other;  the  fair  guests  coming  into  the  other  room  to 
have  their  healths  drunk,  and  then  retiring  to  their 
own  apartment  again  for  the  rest  of  the  evening. 

Upon  this  particular  evening  especially,  there- 
fore, no  exception  was  made  to  the  custom,  for 
the  business  to  be  promulgated  over  the  board 
was  too  weighty  for  interlarding  with  compliments 
and  airy  nothings.  Nay,  even  the  customary 
healths  to  the  ladies  were  omitted  and  the  gentle- 
men took  their  seats  strictly  according  to  families, 
and  a  precedence  long  since  settled  with  bare  steel. 
In  the  minstrel's  gallery  of  the  great  hall  the  har- 
pers had  put  away  their  wrests  and  now,  as  the  Chief 
entered,  leading  his  guests,  they  struck  up  the 
beautiful  strains  of  Y  Veillionen,"  rechristened  by 
them  "  Sir  Watkin's  Delight." 

A  hundred  tall  candles  shed  their  glow  over  a 
hundred  gallant  guests,  and  a  hundred  liveried  serv- 
ingmen  hastened  to  wait  upon  them. 

Behind  the  chair  of  each  Welsh  gentleman  stood 
his  private  servant,  belted  and  weaponed  as  if  for  a 
fray — that  meal  was  to  be  at  no  mercy  of  any  sud- 
den troop  of  horse  which  Whig  justices  might 
send. 

lolyn  had  stationed  himself  behind  Pengraig,  and 
Meredith  had  borrowed  a  man  from  his  kindred, 


52  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

while,  half  way  along  the  board,  the  chair  of  Gwgan 
Maddox  was  shadowed  by  the  suet  face  of  the 
servant  he  had  spoken  of;  a  fellow  whom  no  one 
present  had  ever  seen  before  except  lolyn.  It  need 
hardly  be  said  that  the  latter  had  harboured 
suspicion  and  a  virulent  dislike  of  this  fellow  from 
the  first,  and  that,  as  the  meal  wore  on,  he  watched 
him  with  the  keenness  of  a  hawk. 

"  He  is  fixing  in  his  mind  the  features  of  every 
gentleman  here,"  muttered  lolyn,  as  he  saw  the 
fishlike  eyes  wander  in  furtive  eagerness  from  face 
to  face. 

In  the  whispers  which  passed  between  master  and 
man  he  read  black  treachery,  and  when  at  last  the 
cloth  was  drawn  and  the  harps  paused  for  the  toasts, 
he  ground  his  teeth  as  the  fellow  strained  his  cod- 
fish gaze  upon  the  host  himself. 

I  tell  you,  sir,"  whispered  the  lad  angrily  in 
Pengraig's  ear;  "  that  lackey  of  Maddox's  is  a  spy 
from  Newcastle's.  He  should  be  hanged  in  the 
doorway  for  a  warning  to  his  master.  Shall  I  not 
throw  him  out  of  the  door  at  least  ? " 

"  And  have  me  out  upon  the  grass  at  break  of 
day  to  satisfy  the  insult  to  the  head  of  his  master's 
kindred.  Foh  !  Maddox  is  not  my  ward  to-night, 
but  a  gentleman  of  the  Tribe  of  lestyn ;  and  to 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  53 

touch  his  servant  is  to  affront  the  tribe.  Let  be; 
you  are  mistaken.  See!  Sir  Watkin  rises." 

lolyn  could  not  continue,  for  the  Chief  was  on  his 
feet  to  speak.  "  Gentlemen  all,"  he  cried, — using 
English  for  the  sake  of  Lord  Barrymore  and  his 
friends — "  empty  your  glasses  now  and  let  old  Mar- 
tin fill  them  for  a  toast — though  first  I  have  a  few 
words  to  say.  No,  gentlemen,  not  in  any  wine  now 
upon  the  table ;  but  a  special  wine  which  I  have 
kept  against  this  moment,  from  the  first  day  I  came 
to  Wynstay  till  now.  And  let  old  Martin  fill  it. 
Now  gentlemen;  now  Martin."  * 

A  silence  fell  upon  the  hall,  for  every  man  pres- 
ent knew  what  manner  of  declaration  was  coming. 
Then  Sir  Watkin  lifted  his  face  to  speak,  but  before 
the  words  could  come  "Da  daint  rhag  tafod"  cried 
lolyn,  in  a  voice  that  rang  through  the  hall;  quot- 
ing the  proverb  which  says  that  the  tongue  is  best 
between  the  teeth  when  words  are  dangerous  to 
utter.  '  There  is  a  spy  here  in  the  hall." 

The  Chief  paused  in  sharp  surprise',  while  Pen- 
graig  sprang  up  in  quick  anger.  "It  is  a  mistake 
of  lolyn's,"  cried  the  latter. 

"  Oh!  lolyn  is  it  ? "  put  in  Sir  Watkin  at  once. 
"  Nay,  lad,  the  time  for  circumspection  is  past. 

*  The  office  of  butler  is  hereditary  in  this  family. 


54  FOR    THE   WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

Hearken  and  I'll  quote  another  proverb.  '  The 
secret  of  three  men  a  hundred  will  straightway  know 
of."1 

"  And  I  another,"  answered  lolyn.  "  A  house  is 
easier  burnt  than  built." 

"And  while  you  stand  exchanging  proverbs, 
burst  out  Pengraig  impatiently;  "  I  will  give  you 
the  prince  of  them  all — one  that  is  often  in  the 
mouth  of  the  lord  of  Wynstay — '  Gwell  angau 
na  chywilydd, '  '  Better  death  than  shame. '  "  * 

"  I  am  done,"  said  lolyn;  "  but  I  will  not  forget 
the  spy." 

"  That  is  well  then,"  said  Sir  Watkin.  "  We 
leave  him  to  thee,  lolyn.  One  stroke  of  that  bido- 
gan  at  thy  belt  will  shrive  all  treachery  in  any  spy. 
But — and  this  is  to  you  all,  gentlemen,  a$  well  as 
to  one — thank  God  the  time  has  come  when  we. need 
no  longer  speak  darkly  or  deal  in  hints. 

"  But  to  my  speech.  You  know  that  we  of  the 
Jacobites,  in  all  our  offers  to  the  court  of  King  James 
the  third—God  save  him  ! — have  always  stipulated 
that  he  should  send  over  not  less  than  a  certain 
number  of  continental  troops  to  head  any  rising  on 
our  part.  There  were  other  stipulations,  too,  all  of 
them  born  of  bitter  experience  in  the  past,  or  the 
*  Now  the  proud  motto  of  the  Welsh  Regiment. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  55 

fruit  of  grey  wisdom  in  the  present.  Well,  all  these 
stipulations  are  come  to  nothing,  and  the  young 
Prince  of  Wales,  Charles  Edward,  setting  everything 
at  defiance,  has  landed  in  Scotland,  as  we  all  know. 

"  Wise  or  unwise,  we  must  remember  that  he 
is  young  and  gallant,  full  of  proud  spirit  and  heroic 
ambitions,  as  he  so  notably  showed  when  he  said 
that  he  would  win  his  father's  throne  by  the  swords 
of  his  father's  subjects  alone.  He  is  now  marching 
south  to  enter  England  and  it  behoves  us  to  make 
up  our  minds  to-night  on  which  side  we  are  to  draw. 
Therefore,  gentlemen,  I  will  give  you  a  toast,  and 
if  any  one  of  you  here  cannot,  upon  his  honour, 
drink  it  with  me,  then  I  give  him  leave  and  liberty 
to  withdraw,  and  pledge  him  safe  escort  to  his  own 
hall.  You  know  the  toast,  does  any  man  with- 
draw ? ' ' 

No  one  rose;  no  one  spoke.  One  glance  round 
the  board,  and  then  all  eyes  were  back  again  upon 
the  Chief's  face.  And  he;  his  kindling  eye  went 
round  the  company  till  it  filled  with  moisture,  and 
a  huskiness  came  into  his  voice  which  yet  could  not 
shake  the  power  of  it  as  he  lifted  his  glass  into  the 
light  and  gave  the  words.  "  And  now,  for  every 
gallant  gentleman  who  loves  his  rightful  -Prince  and 
holds  his  honour  above  all  else;  this  is  the  toast. 


$6  FOR   THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

Here  is — to  the  King  across  the  water — to  the 
Prince  across  the  border — to  the  dear  White  Rose 
of  Arno  and  the  day  of  Victory." 

Down  rang  each  cup  upon  the  board  as  the 
draught  was  drained,  and  then. out  flashed  a  hun- 
dred swords  while  a  clamour  of  bursting  cheers 
shook  the  shadows  above,  and  many  an  ancient  bat- 
tle cry  went  up  from  the  lips  of  chiefs  whose  right 
to  them  was  drawn  through  thrice  three  hundred 
years  of  named  and  known  ancestors. 

"  King  James!  God  bless  him!  "  wept  the  grey 
old  Earl  of  Barrymore;  the  hopes  of  years  of  self- 
denial  picturing  their  near  fulfilment  to  his  mind's 
fond  vision. 

It  needed  long,  happy  minutes  and  many  a  hard- 
wrung  handshake ;  yea,  even  the  dashing  away  of 
open  tears,  before  there  was  quietness  round  the 
board  again.  Then  Sir  Watkin  held  up  his  hand  for 
silence,  the  while  he  made  a  sign  to  Pengraig. 

Rising  then,  the  latter  addressed  the  board.  "  I 
merely  wish,  gentlemen,  to  give  you  an  outline  of 
the  position.  As  you  all  know,  I  come  here  from 
the  Duke  of  Beaufort  and  speak  for  South  Wales. 
To-morrow  I  start  north  to  the  Prince,  deputed  to 
speak  for  North  Wales  also.  As  soon  as  I  see  the 
Prince  I  am  to  offer  him  the  allegiance  of  our  whole 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  $? 

land,  and  to  say  that  we  are  ready  and  eager  to  do 
his  bidding  and  to  spend  the  last  coin  in  our  purse 
and  the  last  drop  in  our  hearts  for  his  Royal  father 
and  for  him. 

"  I  myself  shall  remain  with  the  Prince,  but  I  take 
one  gentleman  with  me,  Presgwyn  here,  who  will 
at  once  mount  and  bring  back  the  answer  and  com- 
mands of  His  Royal  Highness  to  you,  with  all 
speed  possible." 

A  tremendous  burst  of  cheering  rose  again  as  Pen- 
graig  sat  down,  and,  at  the  fag  end  of  it,  Ellis  of 
Croesnewydd  struck  up  the  fag  end  of  a  Jacobite 
ballad. 

Nay,  not  that,"  cried  half  a  dozen  voices  at 
once.  '  The  Prince  is  come  at  last,  so  let  us  have 
a  new  one  to  fit  us.  A  new  one !  Who  will  sing  us 
a  new  one  ?  " 

"  Pengraig  will,"  laughed  Sir  Watkin  above  the 
din.  "  He  is  a  bard ;  he  shall  be  our  dark  to-night ! 
Now  then,  gentlemen,  give  him  no  peace  till  he 
complies." 

'  Why,  that  is  hard  on  a  poor  lawyer  of  fifty," 
returned  Pengraig  merrily.  "  But  if  I  must,  then  I 
must,  so  listen  all  of  you." 

Then  giving  the  word  to  the  chief  harper  to  strike 
up  a  well  known  air  he  waited  for  the  first  note  to 


58  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

commence  that  song  which,  grievously  spoilt  and 
altered  to  suit  more  hopeless  times,  was  to  linger 
mournfully  down  to  our  own  day.  But  to  that  night 
and  that  company  the  future  was  mercifully  shut 
out,  and  so  the  rafters  rang,  time  and  again  to  the 
chorus — 

"  Then  I  give  you  a  toast — 

The  Prince  whom  we  boast : 
And  he  who  refuses,  a  traitor  we'll  mark — 

Here's  a  health  to  the  Rose 

The  rarest  that  blows 
And  so  sings  the  chorus  of  Robin  John,  Clark." 


CHAPTER  VI 

WHILE  the  song  and  chorus  were  still  making 
merry  with  the  echoes  of  the  roof-tree,  Pengraig 
bethought  him  of  a  pamphlet  left  in  his  valise,  and 
promptly  despatched  lolyn  to  fetch  it.  Short  time 
as  the  lad  was  gone  it  was  yet  long  enough  for  John 
Chapel,  servant  to  Maddox,  to  disappear  in;  as  if 
he,  too,  were  gone  upon  an  errand. 

Thus,  when  lolyn  returned,  his  first  word  to  Pen- 
graig was  a  hot  demand  to  know  what  had  become 
of  the  spy. 

"What!  Still  harping  on  the  spy?  Pooh! 
some  private  errand  of  his  master.  What  else  ? 
Sit  down,  lad.  Here,  take  a  mouthful  of  wine  and 
let  your  heart  rest  for  one  short  hour  at  least:  we 
shall  have  sharp  times  enough  from  to-morrow  on." 

But  lolyn  was  not  to  be  comforted.  "  I  will  hunt 
him  up.  Sir  Watkin  left  the  spy  to  me,  and  I  said 
that  I  would  watch  him.  I  am  off." 

Pengraig  watched  him  go,  musing  the  while  upon 
the  lad's  suspicions.  "  No,  no,"  he  said  at  last, 
half  aloud,  "  it  is  some  mistake  of  his;  most  likely 


60  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

born  of  his  virulent  hatred  for  Maddox.  No  matter 
the  odds  I  cannot  offend  the  whole  tribe  for  a  mere 
suspicion.  And,  in  any  case,  we  are  up  to  win 
a  crown,  and  only  that  way  to  cheat  a  scaffold. 
Q  " 

Two  minutes  later  he  was  deep  in  sober  discus- 
sions and  plannings  with  Sir  Watkin  and  Lord  Barry- 
more,  weighing  and  deducing  amidst  the  multifari- 
ous details  of  their  enterprise;  seeking  the  surest 
line  to  follow. 

The  furtive  eye  of  Maddox  had  watched  him  nar- 
rowly from  the  moment  of  lolyn's  departure,  and 
now,  as  soon  as  he  saw  him  so  engrossed,  he  himself 
rose  and  left  the  hall. 

Stealing  by  devious  rooms  and  corridors  he 
reached  a  window  opening  upon  the  garden  at  one 
end  of  the  house.  '  This  will  do,"  muttered  he 
as  he  glanced  about.  "  By  getting  out  here  I  shall 
avoid  that  pike-eyed  porter  at  the  entrance;  and 
then  if  anyone  enquires  for  me  before  I  come  back, 
the  porter  will  say  that  I  am  somewhere  in  the 
house,  since  he  can  swear  I  never  passed  him. 
Their  idiotic  old  custom  of  a  door  porter  will  thus 
benefit  me." 

Slipping  out  into  the  garden  he  stole  along  in  the 
shadows  till  he  came  to  the  patch  of  open  moon- 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  6 1 

light  intervening  betwixt  the  ha-ha  fence  and  a 
funeral  tufted  cedar,  some  thirty  yards  away.  Here 
a  low  whistle  from  him  evoked  an  answer  from  the 
velvety  blackness  of  the  cedar's  shadow,  and  Mad- 
dox  smiled  a  little  as  he  heard  it.  '  What  a  clever 
rogue  it  is.  I  made  no  mistake  when  I  chose 
him." 

A  little  cloud  was  just  upon  the  moon's  edge. 
Waiting  a  moment  for  it  fully  to  veil  the  face  of 
night's  white  lamp,  Maddox  took  advantage  of  the 
gloom  to  cross  to  the  tree  where  Chapel  awaited 
him. 

"  You  managed  to  get  clear  then,  without  being 
seen  ?  "  queried  the  master. 

'  Trust  me.  The  grooms  are  more  than  half 
drunk.  What  a  place  this  is  for  what  they  call  hos- 
pitality !  "  answered  the  servant  in  a  voice  that  struck 
his  master  as  more  than  ever  unpleasant. 

For  Chapel  was  a  villain  with  a  voice  which  was 
now  a  whine  and  now  a  whistle;  with  the  whine 
liable  to  be  modified  into  a  sycophantic  sneer  veiling 
an  unctuous  insolence;  and  the  whistle  to  become  a 
shrill  scream  or  ear  piercing  shriek.  At  present  it 
was  a  sickening  whine. 

"  Very  well,"  returned  Maddox.  "  I  am  glad 
no  one  saw  you,  because  I  want  to  speak  on  partic- 


62  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

ular  matters.  You  remember,  I  suppose,  what  I 
hinted  at  when  I  took  you  into  my  service  ?" 

"  La!  sir,  no,  sir.  You  spoke  so  nice  and  kind  to 
me  that  I  forgot.  Besides,  do  you  mean  on  this 
job  or  the  other  one  ? " 

"  Humph!  deuce  take  you  with  your  'other  one.' 
I  mean  this  one  and,  as  you've  forgotten,  I'll  repeat 
it  for  your  benefit.  I  said  that  we  were  going  upon 
rather  a  dangerous  errand,  but  that,  as  your  neck 
was  already  forfeit  to  the  law " 

"  Don't,  sir,"  interposed  Chapel,  as  if  squirming 
with  dread.  "  You  make  me  feel  again  just  as  I 
did  when  old  Clinkley  found  out  that  the  bills  were 
forged,  and  before  he  knew  that  I  had  only  written 
the  body  of  them,  and  that  it  was  you  alone  who 
had  forged  your  guardian's  name." 

In  that  darkness,  Maddox,  unable  to  read  the 
other's  face,  could  only  guess  as  to  whether  the 
thrust  was  mere  stupidity  or  cunning.  But  the 
creeping  voice  went  through  his  bones,  chilling  them 
to  the  very  marrow.  He  cast  a  scared  glance 
around,  as  if  in  dread  lest  someone  should  have 
overheard  the  words.  Then  with  a  half  gasp  of 
relief: 

"  Listen,  my  most  excellent  and  worthy  Chapel," 
said  he.  "  Whether  you  are  more  knave  or  fool  is 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  63 

all  one,  but  I  warn  you  that  if  ever  you  allude  again, 
in  any  way  or  for  any  reason,  to  that  business  of  the 
bills,  I'll  tie  you  up  and  kill  you  by  inches.  Do  you 
understand  ? " 

He  reached  out  to  seize  the  other's  coat  and  shake 
him  by  way  of  emphasis,  but  instantly  found  his 
own  hand  seized  in  a  grasp  that  astonished  him. 

"  I  do  sir  and  I  thank  you  kindly  sir,"  responded 
Chapel,  with  an  unctuous  whine,  while  he  shook  the 
hand — which  he  had  already  gripped  to  a  jelly — 
with  an  effusiveness  that  brought  tears  of  torture  to 
the  other's  eyes. 

"  O-oh  !  d n  you  !  "  at  last  ejaculated  Maddox, 

snatching  out  a  pistol  with  his  left  hand.  "  Let  go, 
you  bedlamite!  or  I'll  blow  you  to " 

"  Oh  please  sir,  do  point  that  the  other  way," 
cried  Chapel  in  a  shrill  whine,  as  if  taken  with  a  new 
paroxysm  of  terror.  "  Please  sir;  the  other  way  sir. 
I  am  so  mortal  feared  of  weapons!  "  As  he  spoke 
he  twisted  the  weapon  from  the  other's  weak  grasp 
as  easily  as  if  from  the  fingers  of  a  baby. 

A  cold  chill  crept  along  the  backbone  of  Maddox 
as  he  began  to  recognize  the  new  figure  of  his  "  ser- 
vant." The  whine  went  through  him  like  a  knife. 

"  But  you  were  going  to  tell  me  something,  sir," 
went  on  the  voice,  now  dropped  to  a  fawning  tone, 


64  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

no  whit  less  dreadful  to  the  listener.     "I'd  forgot- 
ten, and  you  were  going  to  repeat  it — go  on,  sir." 

Maddox  went  on,  for  in  the  blackness  he  could 
not  make  sure  as  to  what  the  hand  which  had  taken 
the  pistol  was  now  doing. 

"  I  was  just  saying  that  if  the  affair  was  risky  the 
pay  was  high,  and  that  if  you  were  called  on  to  do 
any  special  job  you  would  find  me  no  niggard  in 
special  rewards." 

'  To  be  sure,  sir,  you  did  say  that  the  pay  was 
high.  And  I  believed  you,  for  didn't  you  have  at 
that  very  minute  the  thousand  guineas,  which  the 
Secretary  gave  you,  all  safe  locked  in  a  box ;  besides 
the  order  guaranteeing  you  free  from  arrest  till  fur- 
ther orders." 

Maddox  felt  his  hair  stirring.  "  How  did  you 
know  that?"  demanded  he  faintly.  'Who  told 
you  ? " 

'  Why,  didn't  you  show  me  the  key  yourself  ?  " 
returned  Chapel  in  a  surprised  whine. 

"  I  did  not!  "  snapped  the  other  in  savage  reac- 
tion. '  You  know  that  you  lie  when  you  say  that 
I  did." 

"  Then  I  must  have  dreamed  it.  It's  wonderful, 
isn't  it,  sir,  that  I  should  have  a  dream  like  that  ? 
And  true,  too — wonderful!  " 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OP   ARNO  65 

Enough!  "  put  in  Maddox.  "  I  see  you  know. 
But  one  thing  your  dream  left  out,  and  that  was 
that  five  hundred  pounds  of  that  thousand  went 
towards  staving  off  Clinkley  for  the  bills  we  forged." 
The  last  two  words  came  with  a  bitter  sneer. 

"  Ah,  sir,  but  there  is  still  the  other  five  hundred. 
And  even  if  that  were  gone  you  can  always  get 
more  where  that  came  from — enough  to  pay  my  lit- 
tle wages  at  any  rate." 

I  understand,"  returned  Maddox  with  chilly 
doggedness.  "  I  quite  follow  you.  You  are  the 
prettiest  villain  I  ever  knew." 

"  Oh,  don't  say  that,  sir.  It  wasn't  I  who  forged 
my  guardian's  name  to  such  a  tune,  and  then  wanted 
to  marry"  that  guardian's  daughter,  so  that  he 
couldn't  prosecute  me  for  shame  of  the  daughter. 
No  more  did  I  pretend  to  be  a  Tory,  so  as  to  betray 
him  to  the  Government  if  no  better  way  offered  of 
staving  it  off " 

"  No,  it  wasn't  you,"  sneered  Maddox  to  the 
whine,  for  he  was  desperate  now.  '  You  were,  of 
course,  quite  innocent  of  the  half  dozen  crimes  for 
which  you  were  to  have  been  hung,  if  I  had  not 
stopped  the  warrant  in  the  very  shadow  of  the  gal- 
lows." 

"  Of    course    I    was    innocent,    sir," — insolence 
5 


66  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO 

crawling  through  every  tone  of  the  whine — "  that  is 
why  such  an  honourable  gentleman  as  you  interfered 
so  that  such  a  nice  penman  as  myself  should  not  be 
lost.  And  didn't  I  pay  you  back  when  I  wrote  the 
bills  ?  And  then  I  became  your  servant  because 
you  promised  me  such  good  wages,  sir.  So  like 
your  generosity." 

'  You  became  my  servant,"  retorted  the  other, 
"  because  your  safety  lay  with  me.  And  now  you 
will  continue  my  servant — and  my  humble  servant 
too — because  I  arranged,  before  leaving  town,  that 
if  anything  happened  to  me,  no  matter  by  whose 
hand  or  in  what  way,  the  warrant  for  you  was  to  be 
put  into  execution  at  once.  Moreover,  the  other 
five  hundred  of  the  thousand  is  then  to  come  into 
use  at  once  to  back  the  warrant ;  four  hundred  as 
reward  for  your  arrest,  and  one  to  pay  the  expenses 
of  running  you  down.  I  don't  think  that  that  was 
in  your  dream,  Mr.  Chapel ;  wonderful  a  dream  as 
it  was  and  all.  Eh  ?  " 

"  He!  he!  how  very  funny  that  my  dream  should 
leave  that  out  now,"  panted  Chapel,  his  voice  a 
whisper  and  yet  still  a  scream.  "  But  suppose  I 
were  to  go  into  the  hall  there  and  prove  that  you 
were  a  spy.  Then  I  should  be  taken  on  as  a  good 
Jacobite  and  so  come  to  a  rise  in  the  world." 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  67 

"You  would,"  snarled  Maddox,  "and  a  sharp 
rise  too.  You  see  you  do  not  understand  the  foolish, 
uncivilized  customs  of  these  idiotic  Welsh.  If  you 
were  to  denounce  me,  my  kindred,  that  is  my  tribe 
— what  benighted  savages ! — would  immediately 
hurry  you  to  the  nearest  tree,  because  I  should  say 
that  you  really  were  a  spy — the  one  whom  lolyn 
meant. 

"  And  if  anyone  had  a  lingering  suspicion  of  me, 
then  the  imbecile  head  of  my  bedlamite  tribe  would 
straightway  become  surety  for  me,  and  all  that  I 
should  have  to  do  would  be  to  continue  Tory  as 
I  am  now." 

"Tory!" 

'  Yes;  Tory  !  I  suppose  you  find  it  difficult  to 
believe  that  I  have  turned  Tory  in  earnest,  so  as  to 
earn  the  forgiveness  of  my  guardian  and  win  the 
regard  of  that  guardian's  daughter  ?  What  do  you 
say  to  that  ?" 

'  Why,  I  say  that  it  is  a  pity  that  you  did  not 
begin  earlier  to  win  the  lady's  regard  at  least,  since 
someone  else  seems  to  have  done  a  good  deal  in 
that  direction  already.  But  you  were  going  to  tell 
me  of  something  you  wanted  done:  go  on  sir." 

"  I  will:  you  have  hit  upon  the  point  too:  it  is 
just  that  someone  else  whom  you  have  mentioned." 


68  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

"  Aye,  I  thought  so.  And  so  you  want  him  put 
away,  I  suppose  " — the  words  seemed  to  roll  in  oil 
as  they  came  whining  out. 

"  Ha!  I'll  warrant  you  think  it's  murder;  like 
one  of  your  own  jobs,"  sneered  Maddox. 

'  Well,  you  might  have  some  other  name  for  it, 
but,  being  a  plain  man,  I  have  only  a  plain  name 
for  it.  But  what  of  that,  the  man  it's  for  will 
be  as  dead  under  one  name  as  another  in  the 
end." 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind:  nothing  so  coarse.  You 
show  what  a  pitiful  commonplace  villain  you  are — 
and,  besides,  that  sort  of  thing  always  fails  in  the 
finish.  No,  I'm  Tory  in  earnest  now  and  what  I 
want  is  that  this  someone  else  shall  be  made  to 
appear  not  a  Tory  in  earnest,  but  a  spy  in  fact." 

Oh,  I  see,  sir.  We  are  to  do  a  little  more  pen 
work.  Forge  a  few  documents  to  be  found  in  his 
pockets.  Heads  of  plots ;  lists  of  names,  and 
such  like  reports  to  the  Government." 

'  There  you  go  again,  with  your  slum  and  gutter 
notions.  It  doesn't  occur  to  you  that  both  he  and 
his  movements  are  far  too  well  known  for  anything 
so  crude.  But  I  have  a  plan  that  really  has  some 
sense  about  it.  You  heard  in  the  hall  how  that  he, 
Meredith,  is  to  carry  the  despatches  from  the 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  69 

Prince  to  Sir  Watkin  here  ?  Now  in  coming  back 
through  Lancashire,  he  will  head  for  Warrington 
Bridge,  and  then  keep  Delamere  Forest  between 
him  and  Chester,  for  fear  Lord  Cholmondeley's  pa- 
trols pick  him  up  in  passing.  .Very  well, — what  is 
wanted  is  this.  You  must  nab  him  on  the  road  and 
get  the  despatches  he  carries.  Then  you  will  dress 
in  his  clothes,  mount  his  horse,  and  proceed  straight 
to  the  Duke  of  Cumberland's  headquarters;  passing 
yourself  off  as  Meredith. 

'  You  will  there  act  as  though  you  were  the  real 
man  turned  traitor  and  playing  the  spy  on  his  own 
Jacobites.  I  will  give  you  a  note  to  Weir,  the 
Duke's  chief  spy,  and  he  will  help  you  to  pass  the 
business  off.  You  will  stop  there  one  day  and  then 
will  disappear  completely.  Changing  back  to  your 
own  horse  and  clothing,  you  will  return  to  me  here, 
bringing  with  you  such  proofs  as  Weir  can  furnish 
you  with,  as,  for  instance,  the  despatches  themselves 
with  the  Duke's  endorsement  on  them ;  or  the 
report  of  the  proceedings  of  his  council  of  war  upon 
them,  and  such  like  things. 

'  These  you  will  bring  to  me  secretly  and  I  will 
find  means  to  make  them  known  to  Sir  Watkin. 
Then  there  will  be  a  fine  to  do  here  and  I  will 
volunteer  to  ride  at  once  to  the  Prince  and  explain 


70  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

the  treason  of  Meredith  and  ask  for  new  despatches 
— what  do  you  think  of  that  for  a  plan,  eh  ? " 

'Why,  sir,  it's  like  my  dream;  it's  wonderful! 
It's  also  like  my  dream  because  it's  left  something 
out — something  essential,  too.  What  about  the 
real  Meredith  all  this  time  ?  You  said  he  was  not 
to  be  murdered,"'  purred  Chapel. 

"  Nor  is  he,"  replied  Maddox  coolly,  his  self- 
assurance  clothing  him  once  again  as  he  thought  of 
his  own  cleverness.  "  No,  no,  murder  will  out,  and 
I'll  not  have  any  country  chawbacon  of  a  Justice 
tying  a  murdered  corpse  round  my  neck.  So  what 
you  have  to  do  is  this.  Delamere  Forest  is  full  of 
rogues  who  prey  on  the  travellers  crossing  Warring- 
ton  Bridge.  You  must  get  four  or  five  of  the  stiff- 
est  of  them  and  snap  up  your  man  as  he  comes  this 
side  the  bridge.  After  stripping  him  you  will  tie 
him  hand  and  foot;  securely  gag  him,  and  then  load 
him  into  a  country  cart ;  covering  him  with  some 
sort  of  chawbacon  wares  that  will  not  smother  him. 
Then  you  will  see  that  your  highwaymen  drive  him 
to  the  Duke's  headquarters.  You  of  course  will 
ride  on  before  and  when  you  have  done  your  busi- 
ness there  and  disappeared,  you  will  meet  your  cart, 
which,  being  slow,  will  not  yet  have  arrived.  Take 
your  man  on  then  somewhere  south  of  headquarters 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  7 1 

and  there  at  the  handiest  cross-roads  let  him  com- 
mit suicide  by  hanging — you  catch  the  idea  ? " 

"  I  said  it  would  come  out  to  the  same  thing  in 
the  end,"  purred  Chapel.  "  I  called  it  murder  and 
you  call  it  suicide :  but  it's  all  the  same.  And  it 
does  you  credit  indeed.  But  what  of  the  five  foot- 
pads ?  They  will  want  money,  sir,  and  plenty  of 
it." 

'  You  shall  have  plenty.  Above  all  however  you 
must  see  to  it  that  they  do  not  know  who  the  man 
is  that  they  are  carting.  Make  up  some  cock  and 
bull  story  to  tell  them,  and  then  if  you  can  see  your 
way  to  getting  them  all  hung  immediately  after  the 
business,  do  so.  But  don't  waste  time  on  them. 
Whisper  a  word  of  highwaymen  in  some  constable's 
ear  and  then  slip  off. 

"  Now  do  you  quite  understand  everything  you 
have  to  do  ? "  ended  Maddox. 

"  Quite,  sir,"  answered  Chapel,  in  a  whine  all 
vibrant  with  unholy  admiration.  "  I  am  to  get  a 
few  footpads  together  and  waylay  and  capture  this 
Meredith  as  he  comes  across  Warrington  Bridge. 
Then  I  am  to  take  his  papers,  dress  in  his  clothes 
and  appear  at  the  Duke  of  Cumberland's  iieadquar- 
ters  as  Meredith  turned  traitor.  Then  as  soon  as 
the  news  of  that  has  got  into  men's  mouths  I  am 


72  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

to  vanish  from  the  Duke's  camp,  find  my  footpads 
who  have  been  keeping  the  real  Meredith  close  and 
then  hang  him  in  such  a  manner  as  will  leave  the 
world  to  think  that  he  committed  suicide.  After 
that  I  am  to  come  here  and  let  you  know  how  the 
thing  went  and  give  you  the  proper  proofs  so  that 
you  can  go  courting  the  woman  who  loved  him. 
Oh,  it  does  you  credit,  sir:  credit;"  and  the  rest 
was  a  chuckle  that  chilled  Maddox  to  the  bone. 


CHAPTER   VII 

IN  spite  of  the  lateness  of  their  potations,  the 
gentlemen  of  the  Cycle,  together  with  their  host 
and  fellow  guests,  were  early  astir  next  morning. 
A  mighty  breakfast  found  them  a  company  of  as 
goodly  trenchermen  as  ever  lightened  a  board,  and 
the  wit  was  as  fresh  over  morning  ale  as  over  even- 
ing wine.  One  person,  however,  dallied  no  long 
time  over  it,  and  that  one  was  Ithel. 

The  sun  was  barely  up  when  he  took  his  way 
across  the  lawn  and  through  the  wood  towards  the 
great  oak  of  yesterday's  consecrating.  But  when 
he  came  to  the  edge  of  the  glade  he  started  in  quick 
astonishment,  for  there,  in  the  same  spot  as  yester- 
day, was  the  same  figure  of  Mari.  To-day  there 
was  no  mistaking  the  condition  of  her  mind,  for  she 
was  weeping  openly  and  sharp  sobs  were  shaking 
her  slender  frame  as  he  ran  to  take  her  in  his  arms. 

"  Mari!  Mari!  what  is  it,  dear  love?  and  what 
are  you  here  for,  so  early  in  the  morning,  sweet 
heart  ?" 

' '  Oh !  I  am  wailing ;  wailing  for  all  my  love  that 
is  in  jeopardy.  I  am  wailing  and  bewailing  that 


74  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

wars  should  ever  be!  "  cried  Mari,  in  sorrowful  lit- 
eralness  wailing  indeed. 

Holding  her  close:  "  Why,  dear  one,"  answered 
he;  "  there  must  be  wars  while  there  are  men  on 
earth.  And  if  ever  there  were  a  just  war  since  wars 
began,  this  rising  of  ours  is  just.  But  I  fear  me  you 
are  a  Whig,"  ended  he  in  gentle  raillery,  the  tone 
of  which  was  a  caress  itself. 

"  A  Whig!  "  sobbed  she;  "  Oh  what  are  all  your 
politics  to  women  ?  A  woman's  politics  are  the 
man  she  loves.  Yesterday  my  politics  were  all  my 
father.  To-day  they  are  more  than  double  the  wider, 
for  they  are  you  above  all.  What  will  it  profit  me 
who  sits  on  the  throne  if  I  lose  you  in  the  deciding  ? 
Nay,  I  am  a  woman  and,  being  so,  all  my  politics 
is  to  have  you  safe  to  me.  All  my  defeat  would  be 
to  lose  you ;  all  my  victory  to  have  you.  And  since 
I  have  you  now,  how  can  I  long  for  any  change  of 
kings,  when  change  means  risking  you  ?" 

"  But  would  you  have  me  draw  back  now  and  for- 
swear myself?"  said  Ithel.  "Could  you  love  a 
man  forsworn,  Mari  ?" 

"  Not  forsworn;  you  would  be  keeping  faith  and 
troth  the  rather.  For  did  you  not  swear  your  faith 
to  me  but  yesterday  ?  and  does  not  that  faith  over- 
ride all  other  faiths  ?  " 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARWO  ?$ 

"  Aye,  in  a  woman,  sweet.  Love  is  a  woman's 
country,  faith  and  king.  It  would  be  high  treason 
and  rank  rebellion  in  her  if  she  defied  her  love,  and 
did  let  any  other  promise  come  between.  But  with 
a  man,  next  after  his  faith  in  God  comes  his  duty 
to  his  country,  and  if  that  duty  calls  him  from  the 
arms  of  her  he  loves  it  still  must  be  obeyed." 

"  Yes,  if  that  duty  be  to  keep  the  country  from  a 
foreign  foe.  But  this  is  merely  as  to  whether  George 
or  James  shall  wear  a  crown  and  be  a  king!  " 

"  Merely!  it  is  a  question  of  faith  and  right  and 
honour;  and  the  man  who  is  not  moved  by  such 
high  forces  is  not  fit  to  be  beloved  of  a  woman. 
The  fact  that  I  am  ready  to  risk  all  for  them  is  the 
best  warranty  that  you  could  have  that  I  shall  con- 
tinue true  to  you,  sweet  one." 

"  I  want  no  warranty.  I  want  only  you.  Give 
me  your  arms  about  me  and  I'll  ask  no  other  war- 
ranty, save  that  you  call  me  '  sweet  one.'  ' 

"  I  should  not  dare  to  touch  you  or  to  use  such 
terms  to  you,  if  I  could  sit  still  while  other  men 
went  out  to  fight  for  the  right.  Nay,  nay,  sweet, 
think  no  more  of  sorrows  that  may  never  fall.  Think 
only  that  I  love  you  and  that,  come  success  or  come 
defeat,  I  still  shall  love  you  and  you  only." 

And  thus  the  warm  debate  died  out  in  sighs  and 


76  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

soft  caresses  till  presently  Mari  grew  calmer  and 
with  the  calmness  her  natural  high  spirit  came  again. 
And,  as  the  minutes  stole  on,  so  word  by  word  and 
tone  by  tone  she  steeled  herself  to  the  final  agony, 
when,  returning  to  the  lawn,  she  found  her  father 
and  lolyn  ready  mounted,  with  Ithel's  horse  beside 
them. 

Then  after  the  parting  she  stood  and  watched 
them  go  till  the  trees  of  the  avenue  hid  them  from 
sight.  She  saw  the  face  of  lolyn  as  he  turned  in 
the  saddle  for  another  latest  glance  at  her :  she  saw 
the  wave  of  her  father's  hand  in  final  farewell;  and 
more  than  all  she  saw  how  Ithel  checked  as  he  took 
off  his  hat  in  the  sweeping  salute  which  was  a  last 
insistent  reiteration  of  his  lover's  protestations  to 
her. 

And  then  tears  only  to  comfort  her  distress. 

For  the  first  few  miles  of  the  ride  not  a  single 
word  passed  amongst  our  three  riders.  lolyn  was 
savage  and  sullen  at  having  to  leave  Wynstay  with- 
out discovering  Chapel.  When  he  left  the  hall  to 
search  for  Maddox's  servant  he  had  spent  a  full 
hour,  roaming  like  a  hungry  wolf  inside  the  house 
and  out.  Then  he  plunged  stubbornly  into  the 
wood,  hoping  to  chance  upon  him  there;  coming 
back,  drenched  with  the  moisture  of  a  November 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO  TJ 

night,  only  to  find  that  Chapel  was  still  a-missing. 
His  first  quest  when  the  household  rose  was  to 
discover  some  trace  of  the  man  and  he  was  furious 
when  one  of  the  stable  lads  informed  him  that 
Chapel  had  already  ridden  away  in  company  with 
one  of  the  servants  of  Coed  Cynan ;  the  Pencenedl 
or  chief  to  Maddox. 

"  That  is  some  trick  of  Gwgan  Maddox/'  gnashed 
lolyn  to  himself,  as  he  turned  away  at  last.  And 
he  was  right,  for  Maddox  had  adopted  this  way  of 
getting  his  accomplice  safely  away  from  Wynstay, 
before  lolyn's  persistency  should  land  him  into  any 
awkward  investigations. 

But  while  lolyn  was  silent  from  baffled  suspicion, 
and  Ithel  from  thinking  of  Mari,  Pengraig  himself 
was  silent  from  a  cause  equally  characteristic.  Now 
at  length  the  dream  of  his  life  seemed  drawing  to 
realization.  The  fact  that  he  himself  was,  in  some 
sort,  riding  as  ambassador  from  his  native  country 
to  offer  its  allegiance  to  its  rightful  prince,  elated 
him  only  in  so  far  as  it  gave  him  an  active  share  in 
hastening  forward  a  long  yearned  for  consummation. 
Just  for  this  one  morning  hour  the  restless  energy 
of  his  nature  lay,  quiescently  captive,  under  the 
trailing  clouds  of  his  poetic  fancies  as  his  imagina- 
tion swept  on  flame-flighted  pinions  to  a  prospect 


78  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO 

of  rainbow  brilliance.  His  heart  was  full  of  music 
and  the  blood  in  his  veins  was  like  wine.  No  won- 
der that  he  was  silent,  or  that  his  eyes  were  moist. 
He  was  tasting  that  rarest  vintage  which  ever  comes 
from  the  winepress  of  Life :  he  was  at  that  point 
when  Hope  dazzles  warm  endeavour  with  the  gleam- 
ing lines  of  near  fulfilment ;  when  all  that  intervenes 
seems  but  a  single  smooth  stride ;  one  stride ;  one 
only — alas!  that  the  stride  just  taken  should  have 
already  topped  the  summit  of  all  the  pleasure  which 
pursuit  may  ever  know. 

Thus  for  the  present  he  rode,  silent  from  pure 
happiness;  and  so,  until  the  day  had  warmed  to 
noon,  no  word  had  passed  amongst  the  three.  The 
need  for  baiting  the  horses,  however,  broke  the  web 
of  each  man's,  thoughts,  and  thereafter  their  sepa- 
rate feelings  closed  into  a  single  state  of  satisfaction 
as  on  every  hand  they  noted  how  little  active  oppo- 
sition there  was  to  the  notion  of  the  Pretender's 
advance.  Saving  that  Lord  Cholmondeley  had  occu- 
pied Chester  for  the  Government  and  that  thus  the 
old  city  which  held  out  so  gallantly  for  Charles  I 
now  shut  its  gates  against  his  high-spirited  young 
descendant,  there  was  scarcely  the  colour  of  antago- 
nism. What  stir  there  was  seemed  wholly  that  of 
the  Jacobites  themselves,  who  now  no  longer  drank 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  79 

with  closed  doors  and  significant  winks  intended  to 
indicate  "  the  King  over  the  water,"  but  quaffed  it 
noisily  on  the  village  greens  from  broached  barrels 
of  strong  October;  and  found  few  in  their  parishes 
to  dispute  the  toast  or  refuse  the  ale. 

And  not  in  Cheshire  alone  did  they  find  these 
things.  They  took  their  way  without  haste,  be- 
cause haste  was  useless,  and  when,  next  day,  they 
crossed  into  Lancashire,  there  was  every  indication 
of  active  rising,  in  the  furbishing  up  of  blunder- 
busses and  the  fitting  together  of  antiquated  pikes. 
It  was  the  afternoon  of  the  2/th  of  November  when 
at  length  they  sighted  proud  Preston — town  of  ill 
omen  to  the  Stuart  cause — and  presently  drew  rein 
in  the  midst  of  an  advance  guard,  which  Lord 
George  Murray,  in  order  to  break  the  superstition 
of  the  Highlanders,  had  led  across  to  the  southern 
bank  of  the  Ribble.  Here  Pengraig  dismounted, 
Ithel  following  suit,  and  while  lolyn  led  the  horses 
on  into  the  town  to  find  quarters,  the  former  turned 
to  make  enquiries  and  glean  what  information  he 
could  from  the  officer  m  command. 

This  officer  proved  to  be  none  other  than  Lord 
George  himself,  ablest  of  the  Jacobite  generals  and, 
possibly,  most  ambitious.  He  was  to  the  full  as 
eager  for  information  as  the  other,  and  drawing  him 


80  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARA'O 

a  little  way  apart  at  once  desired  to  know  the 
prospects  in  front — "  For  the  country  does  not  rise 
to  us  as  we  were  led  to  expect,"  said  he. 

"  Perhaps  not,  as  yet,"  returned  Pengraig.  "'  But 
then,  it  has  not  risen  against  you  either.  Once  we 
reach  London,  however,  the  country  will  see  that 
our  cause  is  no  mere  matter  of  words  and  healths, 
and  .then  all  that  is  best  and  bravest  in  the  nation 
will  rally  round  the  heir  to  our  rightful  king." 

"  It  is  a  long  way  to  London,"  returned  Murray, 
somewhat  dubiously. 

"  But  there  is  no  army  to  bar  the  way;  or  none 
worth  speaking  of  as  yet,"  returned  Pengraig. 

The  other  brightened  visibly.  "  If  we  can  only 
fall  upon  those  troops  you  hint  at,  before  they  can 
concentrate  into  too  large  an  army,  we  may  do  well 
yet.  I  am  deeply  indebted  to  you,  sir,  for  your 
information.  But  you  are  going  on  now,  no  doubt, 
to  the  Prince,  whom  you  will  find  as  eager  as  your- 
self for  marching  forward.  And  I  hope  you  may 
not  be  too  busy  in  future  to  spare  me  a  little  of 
your  conversation." 

A  few  further  compliments  passed  between  them 
before  they  parted  and  then  Pengraig  and  Meredith 
took  their  way  afoot  into  the  town. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

THERE  is  no  need  for  us  to  pause  here  to  describe 
in  detail  the  personal  appearance  of  the  gallant 
young  Prince,  Charles  Edward.  Neither  was  their 
any  need  for  our  two  to  enquire  the  whereabouts  of 
his  quarters :  they  had  simply  to  follow  the  crowd. 
Half  way  along,  lolyn  was  waiting,  having  already 
secured  quarters  and  ordered  dinner  for  Pengraig 
and  Presgwyn. 

'  Then  you  had  better  go  dine  at  once,"  said  the 
former  to  the  latter  promptly;  "  so  that  you  will  be 
able  to  start  again  upon  the  instant  as  soon  as  I 
can  bring  you  the  Prince's  letter." 

Accordingly  Ithel  and  lolyn  turned  aside  to  the 
inn,  while  Pengraig  pursued  his  way  till  he  came  to 
where  the  crowd  blocked  all  the  roads  about  the 
window  at  which  the  Prince  sat.  Two  pipers  of  the 
Macdonalds  made  music  beneath  it,  while  a  cluster 
of  clansmen,  gentlemen  chiefly,  gathered  about  the 
doorway  in  place  of  a  more  formal  guard.  To  the 
one  who  appeared  to  be  chief  of  these  Pengraig 
addressed  himself  with  due  compliment  and,  courte- 
6 


82  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

ously  stating  his  errand,  presently  found  himself 
ushered  with  all  ceremony  into  the  presence  of  the 
Prince  for  whom  he  was  to  suffer  so  much  and  so 
bravely. 

Charles  Edward  knew  well,  by  fame  and  letter, 
who  this  man  was  now  entering  to  him ;  and  thus 
he  looked  with  some  natural  interest  upon  one  whose 
vigorous  urgings  to  immediate  action  had  so  long 
countenanced  his  own  at  the  dilatory  court  of  his 
Royal  father.  He  noted  the  strong  lines  of  the  face, 
the  determined  poise  of  the  head,  and  the  open 
unflinching  gaze.  He  weighed  the  whole  and  the 
whole  did  more  than  satisfy  him. 

Ah !  now  we  have  the  first  of  those  gallant 
gentlemen  who  are  to  join  us,"  said  Charles  Ed- 
ward, with  a  frank  smile, — "  though  still  your  com- 
ing argues  nothing  as  to  what  others  will  do,  since 
well  I  know  that  even  if  all  others  turned  their 
backs  on  me  yet  David  ApThomas  Morgan  of  Pen- 
graig  would  still  keep  his  faith  and  join  me." 

With  the  first  sentence  the  other  had  opened  his 
lips  to  reply,  but  when  the  Prince  with  princely 
tact  named  him  in  full,  he  checked  and  caught  his 
breath  again.  His  was  no  wild  fire  of  boyish  sen- 
timent. His  was  the  settled  faith  of  a  man  long 
past  the  day  of  unstable  purposes  and  flickering, 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  83 

will-o'-the-wisp  desires.  All  the  long  years  of  the 
soul  deadening  atmosphere  of  the  law  had  not 
dimmed  the  steadfast  flame  of  his  Jacobite  loyalty. 
And  now,  come  face  to  face  thus  with  the  symbol 
of  all  he  held  in  veneration,  and  then  to  be  greeted 
in  his  native  name — dearest  weakness  of  a  Welshman 
—he  stood  upright,  lips  close  and  head  erect,  with  a 
shudder  of  emotion  thrilling  every  fibre  of  his  frame. 

Charles  Edward  saw  it  and  a  soft  light  shone  in 
his  face  as  he  took  a  stride  forward,  saying  gently : 
'  You  have  travelled  far,  but  you  are  welcome  at 
the  end." 

With  a  strong  effort  to  control  his  feelings  the 
other  managed  to  speak.  "  Yea,  I  do  believe 
your  Royal  Highness,  and  I  thank  you  for  it.  But, 
sir,  I  do  not  come  here  only  as  a  loyal  subject;  I 
come  here  from  His  Grace  the  Duke  of  Beaufort 
and  from  Sir  Watkin  Williams  Wyn,  to  tender  the 
allegiance  of  your  own  principality  of  Wales.  I 
am  to  say  "—his  voice  rose  with  the  words — "  that 
all  its  manhood  awaits  only  your  call  to  come  out 
to  follow  you;  to  victory,  we  pray;  but  to  death  if 
need  be! " 

The  eyes  of  the  Prince  kindled  as  he  listened. 
Turning  to  the  Chiefs  and  nobles  who  surrounded 
him:  "  There,  gentlemen!  "  cried  he.  "  What  did 


84  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

I  tell  you  ?  Did  I  not  promise  you  that  our  advance 
would  rally  an  army  to  our  standards  ?  And  here  is 
the  confirmation  of  my  argument,  word  for  very 
word,  as  if  some  herald  repeated  a  proclamation." 

Then  to  Pengraig  he  went  on  again:  "  I  cannot 
say  that  you  are  more  welcome  for  your  words,  but 
I  can  at  least  thank  you  yet  more  for  them,  coming, 
as  they  do,  here  in  a  place  which  has  impressed 
some  of  our  army  as  one  of  ill  omen. 

"  But  what  now  is  your  further  advice,  put  into  a 
sentence  ?  I  know  you  have  summed  up  the  situa- 
tion ere  this." 

"  Yea,  your  Royal  Highness,  and  therefore  I  give 
it  in  a  line.  Forward  is  your  word  and  London  is 
your  object." 

"Again,  gentlemen!"  cried  Charles  Edward 
gaily:  "  my  very  words  again.  Nay,  never  shake 
your  heads  and  mutter;  we  must  go  forward  now; 
we  cannot  turn  back  after  this.  Is  there  anything 
else,  good  counsellor  from  in  front — for  you  shall  be 
my  counsellor;  I  love  such  counsel — is  there  any 
other  thing  your  knowledge  can  suggest  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  your  Royal  Highness,  saving  that  no 
time  be  lost  on  the  march ;  and  that  you  instantly 
beat  up  for  all  possible  recruits.  Has  there  been 
any  recruiting  yet  ? "  ended  he. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  85 

"  Has  there?"  repeated  the  Prince,  passing  the 
interrogation  on  to  his  secretary,  Murray  of 
Broughton. 

"  I  believe  not,  your  Royal  Highness,"  answered 
the  secretary. 

'  Then  it  should  be  done  at  once,"  replied  Pen- 
graig  to  him  instantly,  the  energy  of  his  nature 
catching  with  relief  at  the  opportunity  for  action. 

'  Yes,  let  it  be  done  at  once,"  assented  Charles 
Edward. 

Lord  Elcho  and  another  moved  immediately  to 
obey,  and  Pengraig  made  as  if  to  accompany  them. 
"  Nay,  not  yet,  counsellor,"  interposed  the  Prince 
smilingly;  "  I  have  not  yet  heard  the  details  of 
what  Wales  offers.  How  shall  I  know  what  to 
answer  if  I  am  left  dark  ? " 

I  crave  your  pardon,  sir,  and  truly  I  am  a 
sorry  ambassador,"  returned  Pengraig;  "  but  my 
feet  are  ever  in  a  fever  to  be  moving  about  your 
work " 

"  Enough;  enough,"  broke  in  the  Prince.  "  And 
as  you  have  ridden  so  far  you  shall  come  into  my 
cabinet  here  and  take  a  mouthful  of  wine  the  while 
you  fill  my  ears  with  the  plans  of  my  own  country. 
Come; "  ended  he,  leading  the  way,  as  he  spoke,  to 
the  adjoining  room. 


86  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

Losing  no  point  that  could  be  made;  missing  no 
detail  which  could  impress;  Pengraig  recounted 
what  had  been  agreed  upon  at  Wynstay;  reinforc- 
ing the  whole  with  evidence  and  proof  drawn  from 
his  wide  knowledge  of  the  country  and  his  endless 
information  as  one  of  the  most  active  of  the  con- 
spirators. 

"  And  now,"  concluded  he,  "  if  your  Royal 
Highness  will  but  give  me  your  commands,  I  will 
at  once  transmit  them  to  Wynstay  by  a  sure  and 
speedy  hand." 

'  Then  let  Sir  Watkin  gather  his  people  at  once 
and  be  ready  to  join  us  as  we  march  south.  You 
yourself  know  better  what  our  route  should  be  and 
what  point  they  should  strike  for.  What  do  you 
advise  ?  " 

'  This,  sir.  As  speed  is  one  main  factor  of  suc- 
cess for  you,  the  less  you  deviate  from  the  straight- 
est  line  to  London,  the  better.  That  straightest 
line  lies  through  Manchester,  Macclesfield,  and 
Derby.  Now  let  Sir  Watkin  rise  and  push  across 
Cheshire  to  strike  your  march  somewhere  between 
the  two  latter  towns ;  say  at  Leek  or  Ashbourn,  ac- 
cording to  the  roads.  At  the  same  time  the  Duke 
of  Beaufort  should  rise  and  seize  Bristol  and  so 
secure  the  West  country.  Thus  your  own  army 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO  87 

will  not  lose  a  day  and  so  may  brush  through  to  its 
goal  before  any  opposition  can  concentrate  to  bar 
the  way.  Such,  in  full,  is  my  poor  advice,  your 
Royal  Highness." 

"  And  the  best  that  I  could  have,  for  it  smacks 
of  success,"  answered  Charles  Edward  readily. 
'  Write  my  commands,  therefore,  just  as  you  have 
indicated  and  let  your  messenger  be  sure  and 
speedy.  Have  you  a  cipher  for  your  communica- 
tions ?  I  confess  I  cannot  assist  you  to  one  if  you 
have  none." 

"  No  cipher,  your  Royal  Highness;  but  I  will 
e'en  copy  your  own  example  when  you  corresponded 
with  your  royal  father.  Trust  me  for  an  ambiguity 
that  shall  be  as  innocent  as  mothers'  milk,  until  the 
messenger  shall  choose  to  expound  it  to  the  proper 
persons." 

Fifteen  minutes  later  the  Prince's  eyes  were 
sparkling  with  enjoyment  as  he  read  the  script  with 
which  the  other  presented  him.  '  Why,  you  have 
copied  me  to  the  very  life,"  exclaimed  he  merrily. 
'  Yea  here  is  the  selfsame  name  *  which  I  myself 
used  to  indicate  my  identity  to  my  father.  It  is  the 
very  thing!  " 

*  The  reader  may  find  specimens  of  the  letters  alluded  to  above,  in 
the  "  Stuart  Papers"  and  elsewhere. 


88  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

The  letter  which  so  tickled  his  youthful  exuber- 
ance, ran  as  ambiguously  follows : 

'  To  the  Manager  of  the  Cycle  Company  of  Merchant 

Adventurers. 

11  MOST  HONOUR'D  SIR, — "  As  you  have  ex- 
pressed your  desire  to  take  the  present  opportunity 
of  paying  all  your  debts  and  obligations,  due  to  the 
old-established  house  of  Norry  &  Son ;  this  is  to 
notify  you  that  Howell,  the  representative  of  that 
House,  is  now  on  his  way  to  London,  with  all  pos- 
sible haste,  and  desires  you  to  meet  him  on  the 
way  thither,  at  Leek  or  Ashborne,  on  the  second  or 
third  of  December,  whichever  may  be  most  conve- 
nient to  you — but  you  are  to  be  sure  of  being  in 
time.  And  Howell  further  says  that  you  are  to 
come,  bringing  with  you  all  that  you  can  possibly 
raise,  by  hook  or  crook, — whereby  he  hopes  the 
ledger  may  be  balanced  to  your  credit  and  future 
drafts  by  you  upon  Norry  &  Son  be  honoured  with 
all  promptness  and  pleasure.  Signed " 

"  Nay,"  broke  off  the  Prince;  "  give  me  the  pen 
and  I  will  sign  it,"  and  stooping  to  the  board  he 
wrote  in  his  untutored  hand  the  one  word,  "  How- 
ell." 

"  But  what  says  the  Post  Scriptum  ?"  he  went 
on,  taking  up  the  reading  again. 

"  P.S.  The  firm's  affairs  appear  to  be  in  a  most 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  89 

flourishing  condition  and  any  of  your  friends  who 
may  be  hesitating  between  it  and  its  rival  would  do 
well  to  lose  no  time  in  opening  an  account  with 
Howell." 

'  Why  now,"  smiled  Charles  Edward,  as  he  ended, 
"  this  is  as  honest  a  letter  as  any  easy  Justice  might 
wish  to  see.  Well,  well,  when  I  wrote  Howell  be- 
fore, it  was  as  an  honest  yeoman  farmer,  and  here  I 
am  become  a  prosperous  merchant's  factor.  Egad! 
I  rise  in  the  world  as  I  grow  older." 

"  I  will  not  say,  '  please  God  you  may,'  answered 
Pengraig.  "Higher  you  cannot  rise,  save  to  your 
father's  throne:  but,  I  will  say  'please  God  you 
come  by  your  own  '  and  that  right  shortly."  And 
with  such  grave  compliment  he  took  his  leave  and 
way  to  instruct  and  start  Meredith. 


CHAPTER   IX 

WHEN  Ithel  had  thoroughly  grasped  the  instruc- 
tions with  which  Pengraig  charged  him,  clause  by 
clause,  like  a  catechism ;  the  last  word  as  he  spurred 
away  was  still  a  repetition  of  the  first  injunction, 
"  Trust  nobody  and  keep  your  pistols  primed. 
Above  all,  be  swift." 

Therefore,  with  one  change  of  horses  at  Wigan, 
he  came  splashing  through  the  muddy  streets  of 
Warrington  at  dead  of  night,  hoping  to  be  over  the 
bridge  and  well  beyond  reach  of  Delamere  Forest 
long  before  break  of  day.  So  sure  was  he  in  his 
hope,  that  all  his  attention  was  taken  up  with  sus- 
picious scanning  of  the  deeper  shadows  on  either 
hand  as  he  leaned  forward,  finger  on  trigger  and 
spurs  ready  for  a  dash  away  at  the  slighest  sign  of 
ambush.  Then  a  sudden  snort  from  the  horse  closed 
his  knees  instinctively  like  a  vice,  just  in  time  to 
save  his  seat  as  the  startled  animal  swerved  violently 
round  and  away  from  the  ragged  edge  over  which 
the  next  stride  would  have  landed  him. 

His  rider  did  not  swear;  a  long  breath  and  a  quiet 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  91 

sigh  of  thankfulness  escaped  him  instead,  for  where 
the  bridge  had  been  was  nothing  now  save  the  shat- 
tered masonry  of  the  opposing  abutments,  with  the 
river  slipping  oilily  between,  grey  and  sullen  under 
the  rays  of  the  moon.  Bringing  his  horse  up  he 
pressed  slowly  forward  again,  soothing  and  patting 
the  animal's  crest,  till  he  pulled  up  in  the  white 
moonlight  on  the  broken  bridge  end.  Hardly  had 
he  time  however,  fully  to  realize  the  check,  when  a 
sharp  challenge  rang  out  from  the  dense  shadows  of 
the  farther  bank,  followed  instantly  by  a  couple  of 
musket  shots,  warning  him  that  not  the  river  alone 
barred  his  way. 

As  the  bullets  droned  past  his  ears,  "  Phew!  the 
shadows  are  a  better  council  chamber,"  quoth  Ithel, 
wheeling  about  and  dashing  back  for  the  black 
mouth  of  the  street. 

So  sharply  did  he  go  that  he  almost  rode  down 
a  man  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  road ;  only 
the  metal  button  of  the  man's  hat,  flashing  silver  as 
he  raised  his  face,  sufficing  to  startle  the  already 
scared  horse  into  shying  again. 

Who  the  devil  are  you  ?  "  cried  the  rider  angrily 
as  he  controlled  his  beast  again.  "  And  if  you  mean 
mischief  you  had  better  begin;  you  rascally  Jack  - 
Andrew,  you  ! ' '  — cocking  a  drawn  pistol  as  he  ended.. 


92  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

"  If  Aw'd  wanted  mischief,  lad,"  answered  the 
other  coolly;  "Aw  could  ha'  done  it  while  thou 
wert  moonrakin'  on  th'  bridge  eend.  But  Aw'm  as 
honest  as  thee,  or  ony  other  mon  as  rides  this  gate 
fro'  Wigan  at  this  time  o'  neet,  mucked  up  fro'  heel 
to  hat  wi'  slutch  (mud)  as  thou  art." 

"  Then  what  are  you  doing  here  in  the  street 
when  everyone  else  is  abed  ? "  retorted  Ithel. 

"  What  art  thou  doing  ?  "  returned  the  other  dog- 
gedly. 

"  Riding  about  my  business,"  replied  Ithel,  still 
sharply. 

"  And  Aw'm  standin'  about  mine,"  capped  the 
fellow  with  the  evidence  of  a  grin  in  his  tone. 

"  But,  come  now,"  he  went  on,  "  Aw'll  tell  thee 
a  gradely*  tale  for  once,  for  thou'rt  a  farrantly  lad 
by  th'  sound  o'  thee.  Aw  were  uset  to  be  th' 
bridge  tenter  here,  till  thoose  dal'd  sodgers  broke  it 
down  this  mornin' ;  for  fear  this  new  Prince  should 
use  it  for  marchin'  into  Wales." 

"Then  you  know  the  river  well?"  insinuated 
Ithel. 

*  Gradely.  This  word  is  probably  not  more  than  a  few  centuries 
old.  Its  meaning  is  to  be  up  to  grade  (the  highest  grade)  in  a  (cloth) 
merchant's  sense  of  the  word.  It  has,  however,  expanded  so  as 
almost  completely  to  oust  the  old  word  of  "  proper,"  as  in  "  a  proper 
man  "  ;  though  the  latter  still  survives  in  some  districts. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  93 

"  Ne'r  a  mon  betther.  Aw' re  noan  born  here — 
my  talk  '11  tell  thee  'at  Aw  come  fro'  th'  tother  side 
o*  Owdham — but  Aw've  lift  here  long  enoof  to 
know  every  turn  and  tide  on't  fro'  th'  tone  eend  to 
th'  tother,"  replied  the  man  readily. 

"  Well,  these  soldiers  appear  to  have  done  you 
harm,  just  as  they  have  done  me  harm,  by  breaking 
the  bridge.  But  I  am  in  a  hurry  to  cross,  so  you 
have  a  chance  to  earn  more  as  a  ferryman  than  you 
did  as  a  bridge  keeper.  What  will  you  take  to  put 
me  across  on  the  other  side;  somewhere  wide  of 
these  marauding  soldiers  ?" 

"  What  wilt  t'a  give  ?" 

"  A  guinea,"  returned  Ithel  promptly. 

"  Then  thou'lt  tarry  on  this  side  till  somebody 
else  tak's  thee  o'er,"  returned  the  other  just  as 
promptly.  "  Dost  ta  think  Aw'm  bound  to  risk 
bein'  shot,  an'  walk  hauve-a-dozen  mile  into  th' 
bargain,  for  a  guinea  ?  An'  Aw've  said  naught 
about  payin'  for  the  boat  when  we  come  to  it, 
oather." 

"  Oh,  I'll  pay  for  the  boat." 

"Aye,  an'  pay  rarely  too,  Aw'll  be  bound!" 
chuckled  the  man.  "  Aw  should  ha'  saved  thee 
summat  theer. " 

"  Ah,"  returned  Ithel  drily.     "  I  see.     You  wish 


94  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

to  fleece  me  yourself,  but  don't  wish  anyone  else  to 
do  it ;  eh  ?  " 

'  We  sayen  i'  Lancashire  'at  two  of  a  trade  ne'er 
thriven  together,"  retorted  the  other  with  grim 
amusement  in  his  voice. 

"Oh!  that  is  cool  enough  at  any  rate.  But 
come,  you  have  told  me  what  you  will  not  do  it  for; 
now  let  us  hear  what  you  will  do  it  for  ? " 

"  Happen  (mayhap)  four  guineas  '11  do  me,"  sug- 
gested the  man. 

"  Happen  I'll  see  you  hanged  first,"  retorted 
Ithel,  who  feared  that  compliance  with  such  extor- 
tion might  rouse  uncontrollable  suspicion  as  to  the 
importance  of  his  errand. 

"Well,"  returned  the  other  leisurely:  "  Aw've 
no  business  on  t'  tother  side  just  now  as  Aw  know 
on.  But  Aw'll  tell  thee,  lad,  'at  here  i'  Lancashire 
folk  gi'en  naught  for  naught  an'  dal'd  little  for  a 
penny." 

"Look  here,"  broke  out  Ithel;  "  I'll  give  you 
thirty  shillings." 

"  Say  three  guineas." 

"  No,  but  I'll  come  up  to  two  pounds." 

"  Mak'  it  guineas." 

"  Very  well,"  agreed  Ithel. 

"  Show  thy  brass  then,"  said  the  bridge  tender. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  95 

'  There  it  is,"  answered  Ithel  showing  the  gold 
at  arm's  length  towards  the  moon  flush  at  the  end 
of  the  street. 

"  Hand  it  o'er  then,"  quoth  the  other  extending 
his  hand  to  receive  it. 

"Ah!  no    doubt,"   returned    Ithel    sarcastically. 
'  You  wait  till  we  are  in  the  boat.     I'll  promise 
you  shall  have  it  then." 

The  other  laughed  as  if  at  a  good  joke.  "  Come 
lad;  thou'rt  none  so  gawmless*  after  o'.  Weel, 
Aw'm  a  yezy  f  mon  an'  so  Aw'll  tak'  thy  promise. 
Come  this  gate  (way)  then  an'  follow  me." 

He  strode  away  with  the  step  of  one  accustomed 
to  night  work  and  Ithel  noted  the  fact  as  he  put  his 
horse  to  follow.  "  Never  mind,"  muttered  he: 
"  my  business  is  to  get  across  the  Mersey  if  the 
Devil  himself  were  ferryman." 

As  they  emerged  into  the  open  country  the 
sound  of  muffled  hoofs  galloping  on  ahead  came 
back  to  them.  "  What  is  that  ? "  said  Ithel  check- 
ing to  listen  as  he  spoke. 

Happen    some    sodier,    just    wakkent    up    fro' 
bein'    fuddled    at    some   alehouse,   an'   as    feard  o' 

*  Gawmless,  gumptionless.  Gawm  =  to  understand,  to  catch  the 
meaning  of. 

f  Yezy  =  easy :  following  the  rule  which  gives  dyed  =  dead, 
yer  =  hear,  yeth  =  heath,  etc. 


96  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

thee  an'  me  as  if  we  were  two  rebels.  Come  on ; 
if  he  stops  we'n  shake  a  stick  at  him;  that'll  start 
him  agen;  Aw'll  warrant." 

"  My  pistol  is  ready  cocked  in  any  case,"  said 
Ithel  significantly,  intending  a  delicate  hint  to  the 
guide. 

The  other  stopped,  looking  him  squarely  in  the 
face  for  a  matter  of  a  dozen  seconds.  "  Bi  th' 
Mass,*  lad,  thou  art  feart  after  o'." 

"  Better  be  sure  than  sorry,"  retorted  Ithel. 
"  And  you  may  be  sure  that  I'll  act  upon  that 
motto." 

"  Aye,  weel;  ne'er  mind.  Come  on,"  ended  the 
guide  offhandedly,  starting  forward  again. 

They  moved  silently  along  in  the  same  direction 
as  the  river,  but  at  sufficient  distance  to  escape 
observation  from  the  other  bank.  Two  small 
streams  were  at  length  crossed  and  Ithel  began  to 
grow  impatient. 

"  How  much  farther  is  it  to  this  boat  of  yours  ?  " 
demanded  he. 

"  None  mich.  We're  comin'  nigher, — by  degrees, 
like  lawyers  go  to  heaven." 

Some  distance   yet   remained  to  be  passed   and 

*  By  the  Mass  !  Still  one  of  the  commonest  forms  of  oath  in  some 
even  Protestant  districts  of  Lancashire. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO  97 

then  at  last  they  drew  near  to  the  river's  edge  again 
and  Ithel  saw  the  hut  and  boat  which  betokened  the 
existence  of  a  regular  ferry.  Not  checking,  the 
guide  strode  on  up  to  the  hut  and  kicked  loudly  at 
the  door.  But  before  any  answer  could  come  from 
within,  Ithel's  horse  broke  into  a  questioning 
whinny,  which  was  immediately  answered  from  be- 
hind the  hut,  whence  presently  issued  a  horse,  sad- 
dled and  bridled  and  showing  wet  with  sweat  that 
glittered  on  his  coat  like  hoar  frost  under  the  moon. 
'  This  was  your  fuddled  soldier's  horse  then, 
was  it  ?  And  where  do  you  reckon  his  rider  is  ?  " 
demanded  Ithel  grimly,  levelling  the  pistol  at  the 
guide's  body  as  he  ended. 

"Not  i'  this  cabin,  chuzhow;*  so  put  up  thy 
pistol,"  answered  the  guide  doggedly. 

"  It  is  my  own  pistol,  in  my  own  hand,"  returned 
Ithel  steadily.  "  I'll  do  with  it  what  I  will." 

'  Then  do  th'  rest  o'  this  business  thysel',"  re- 
torted the  other,  moving  a  pace  as  if  to  walk  off. 

"Stop!"  commanded  Ithel  firmly.  "Another 
step  and  I'll  drop  you  like  a  partridge.  The  game 
is  mine  now.  The  two  guineas  you  shall  have  fair 
enough ;  or  maybe  more  if  I  feel  like  it  on  the  other 

*  Chuzhow  ;  often  pronounced  "  shuzheaw  "=  choose  how,  i.e., 
anyhow  :  at  any  rate. 

7 


98  FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

side.      But  just  at  present  I'm  your  master.     Open 
that  door!  " 

"  It's  fast." 

"  Break  it  in  then."  . 

"  An'  what'll  Jone  Fidler  be  doin*  while  Aw'm 
breakin'  it  ? " 

'  That  is  your  affair.       I   know  what  I  shall  be 
doing  if  you  refuse.      Break!  " 

With  half  an  oath  the  fellow  turned  to  the  door 
again.  "  Come  on,  Jone!  Let  th'  Narker  do  his 
own  th'  best  way  he  can  o'  th'  tother  side.  We 
mun  be  budgin'.  Outon't!" 

At  this  speech,  sounding  so  suspicious,  Ithel 
whipped  out  a  second  pistol,  and  when  the  door 
opened  at  the  last  word,  the  ferryman,  stepping 
swiftly  out  with  his  hand  at  his  belt,  found  himself 
covered  by  one  pistol,  while  the  guide,  turning 
with  a  snap,  found  the  other  muzzle  grinning  within 
two  arm's  lengths  of  his  body. 

"  A  pretty  pair  of  rogues  to  grace  a  gallows. 
And  I  will  see  that  both  of  you  are  hanged  if  I  lose 
much  more  time  over  this  crossing.  Now  then, 
you ;  bridge  keeper  as  you  call  yourself ;  take  those 
pistols  out  of  the  ferryman's  belt  and  drop  them. 
Quick!  my  ringer  itches  on  this  trigger!  " 

No  use,  Jone.      Lev  it  to  th'  Narker,"  growled 


FOR    THE    WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  99 

the  guide ;  taking  out  and  dropping  the  two  pistols 
as  he  spoke. 

"  Now  then,  Ferryman,  take  the  other  fellow's 
pistols  and  drop  them  with  yours.  Quick!  " 

The  guide  laughed  a  full  strong  laugh.  '  Tak' 
'em  Jone,  an'  ha'  done  wi'  it.  Bi  th'  Mass,  lad, 
thou'rt  even  a  gradelier  cock  than  Aw  took  thee  for. 
Nay,  thou  may  put  up  thy  own  pistols  now:  Aw'll 
promise  to  put  thee  safe  across:  thou  desarves  that 
mich,  chuzhow. " 

"  Ah,  but  first  I  want  to  know  where  the  rider  of 
that  horse  is  ?  " — this  to  the  ferryman. 

How  should  I  know  ?"  growled  that  worthy. 

"  Well  it  is  not  of  interest  to  me  except  in  one 
way;  but  if  he  starts  up  from  any  shadow  between 
this  and  the  other  side,  then  down  you  go — remem- 
ber that." 

'  Weel,  if  he  ne'er  gwos  down  till  that,"  re- 
marked the  guide  drily;  "  then  he'll  be  like  to  stond 
upreet  till  he's  some  an'  weary.  Cannot  ta  see, 
lad,  'at  th'  little  boat's  gone  fro'  this  side  ?  Aw 
reckon  that  so'dier  didno'  stop  to  bargain,  like  thee, 
but  just  paid  for  a  boat  wi'  a  horse.  Come  on !  " 

Leading  the  way  as  he  spoke  the  guide  started  for 
the  ferryboat,  the  ferryman  at  his  heels  evidently 
trying  to  get  close  enough  to  whisper  some  remon- 


100         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

strance  in  his  ear.  But  the  other  minded  it  no  more 
than  the  flapping  of  a  bat's  wings.  Only  when  the 
ferryman  would  have  delayed  him  from  casting  off 
for  a  moment,  he  spoke  out  unconcernedly.  "  Dal 
thee !  Every  tub  on  its  own  bottom !  Let  the 
Narker  try  his  own  hond  a  bit — or  art  ta  feared  o' 
th'  Narker  ?" 

The  reply  was  an  indistinct  growl,  which  elicited 
no  other  answer  from  the  guide  than  "  Thou  art  a 
foo'.  Do  summat  toart  puttin'  this  boat  across;  or 
else  stond  out  o'  th'  gate." 

Ithel  now  dismounted  warily,  face  and  pistol  both 
towards  the  two.  He  stood  in  the  stern  of  the 
boat,  watching  closely  for  any  sign  of  treachery. 
But  the  guide  seemed  to  be  imperturbable  in  his  new 
good  humour,  and  worked  away  as  if  entirely  un- 
aware of  the  pistols.  Half  way  across,  Ithel  belted 
one  weapon  till  he  could  take  out  two  guineas. 
"  Here,  you,  bridge  keeper!"  he  cried.  "  Here  is 
your  money.  Catch!" — tossing  the  coins  into  the 
other's  extended  hat. 

"  Weel;  bi  th'  mass!"  was  all  the  guide's  com- 
ment as  he  pocketed  the  guineas. 

Hardly  had  the  slight  shock  of  touching  the  other 
bank  quivered  through  the  boat  than  Ithel  was 
mounted  again. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  IOI 

"  Ashore  !  both  of  you  !  "  he  shouted,  for  he  could 
hear  the  crash  of  a  breaking  hedge  just  ahead,  and 
voices  urging  runners  to  greater  speed. 

The  guide  obeyed  with  a  chuckle,  but  the  other 
hesitated.  Instantly  Ithel  pressed  his  horse  to- 
wards him  and  the  black  muzzle  of  the  pistol  drove 
him  growling  back  out  of  the  way,  while  as  the 
hoofs  touched  land  the  rider  pressed  the  rowels 
home  and  the  snorting  steed  sprang  away  at  top 
speed. 

"  That's  him !  "  screamed  a  voice  from  the  hedge 
to  the  right.  "  Stop  him  !  Stop  him  !  " 

"  Halt !  "  shouted  a  voice  in  front  as  the 
spurred  and  booted  figure  of  a  man  leaped  the 
ditch  and  faced  round  in  the  road.  "  Halt!  or  I 
shoot ! ' ' 

A  blunderbuss  was  in  his  hand  as  he  staggered 
upright,  but  before  he  could  even  level  it  the  ball 
from  Ithel's  pistol  took  him  in  the  breast  and  the 
next  leap  of  the  terrified  horse  was  over  his  corpse 
as  he  dashed  on  up  the  road. 

But  with  that  leap  the  first  voice  from  the  hedge 
abreast  again  screamed  "  Stop!"  and  at  the  same 
instant  a  pistol  cracked  loose,  almost  within  arm's 
length  of  Ithel  who,  as  the  ball  ploughed  into  his 
body,  sent  the  spurs  home  convulsively,  driving  the 


102         FOR    THE   WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

maddened  beast  with  bursting  speed  out  of  the 
reach  of  pursuit. 

Then  the  figure  that  had  fired  the  pistol  broke 
through  the  thorns  into  the  roadway,  whining  forth 
a  string  of  horrible  blasphemies  as  he  stood  looking 
into  the  black  shadows  which  had  swallowed  horse 
and  man  from  sight. 

A  voice  behind  caused  him  to  turn.  It  was  the 
guide,  kneeling  beside  the  corpse  and  speaking  to 
the  ferryman.  '\So;  th'  Narker's  getten  it  at  th' 
end  of  o'.  By  th'  Mass!  yon  lad's  a  rare  un  !  But 
th'  Narker  were  a  foo'  to  tak'  a  job  fro'  anybody 
else  i'  th'  stead  of  doin'  for  hissel'.  Weel,  he's 
done  wi'  o'  now." 

The  one  who  had  been  whining  after  the  fugitive 
now  broke  out  into  hideous  curses  on  the  dead  man. 

'  The !  "  he  screamed.  '  Trust  me,'  cackled 

the  Jack  Straw:  and  I  did  trust  him,  and  here  I  am, 
with  a  thousand  good  guineas  and  a  life  to  enjoy 
them  in  both  slipped  through  my  fingers  like  a 

whistle  of  the  wind.  Oh!  !"  he  broke  off; 

kicking  the  corpse  ferociously. 

In  that  same  instant  he  went  backwards  head  first 
into  the  ditch  beside  him — the  guide  had  coolly 
jerked  his  feet  from  under  him.  "  Aw'll  larn  thee; 
chuz  what  dal'd  foo'  thou  art.  Thee  punce  (kick) 


103 

a  livin'  mon  when  tha  wants  to  punce  onybody: 
one  'at  con  punce  back;  none  a  dyed  (dead)  un ;  " 
and  as  he  ended  the  guide  rose  to  his  feet  and  stood 
ready. 

"Curse  you!  Oh;  the  curse  of  forty  thousand 
hells  upon  you!"  whined  the  voice;  between  a 
choked  whisper  and  a  devilish  whistle.  "  Oh,  how 
I  will  shoot  you!"  trailed  out  the  words  as  the 
overturned  one  scrambled  into  the  roadway  again, 
pistol  in  hand. 

Instantly  a  crashing  kick  upon  the  knee  cap 
dropped  him  as  if  it  had  been  a  bullet,  and  hardly 
had  he  touched  the  ground  when  another  kick  sent 
the  pistol  flying  from  his  mangled  fingers.  A  third 
kick  upon  the  thigh  socket  of  his  other  leg  com- 
pletely disabled  him  and  then  while  he  lay,  writhing 
and  hissing  impotent  curses,  the  guide  spoke  again, 
as  coolly  as  before. 

"  Now  then,  my  fine  foo'  fro*  Lunnon — or  chuz 
wheer  ever  tha  does  come  fro' — Aw'll  show  thee 
what  it  is  to  punce  a  dyed  mon,  or  poo  a  pistol  on 
a  wick  (living)  un.  Tak'  that!  an'  that!  How  dost 
ta  like  it  ?  Heh  ?  " 

With  each  word  the  terrible  wooden  soled  and 
iron  shod  clogs  of  the  speaker  thudded  home  against 
the  writhing  body  on  the  ground,  till  the  curses 


104         FOR   THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

became  groans  and  the  limbs  lay  inanimate,  and 
then,  with  one  last  thundering  kick,  the  guide  drew 
back  and  surveyed  it. 

'  Th'  Narker  were  slain  doin'  this  felly's  work, 
an'  then  he  punced  his  dyed  body  after  o',"  contin- 
ued he.  "  But  if  he  punced  t'one,  he'll  remember 
tother;  me,  Ned  o'  th'  Cloof ;  lung  after  he's  for- 
gotten th'  Narker. 

"  Poor  owd  Narker!  Weel,  lads,  fot'  him  across 
an'  let's  bury  him  out  o'  th'  gate.  But  this  tother 
may  lie;  dyed  or  wick — let's  see;  what  were  it  th' 
Narker  said  he  were  co'd  ?" 

"  Chapel,  or  summat  o'  that  mak, "  answered  one 
of  the  four  Avho,  after  standing  by  from  the  first, 
were  now  stooping  to  lift  the  body  of  the  Narker. 

"  Chapel,"  repeated  Ned  o'  th'  Cloof.  "  By  th' 
Mass  then,  Aw  reckon  nobody  but  th'  Owd  Lad 
were  ever  inside  that  Chapel." 


CHAPTER  X 

PENGRAIG  had  hardly  started  his  messenger  for 
Wales  before  he  was  invited  to  join  the  chief  officials 
at  dinner — the  meal  being  then  ready.  Here  he 
sat  next  to  that  Lord  Elcho  who  had  set  in  motion 
the  suggestion  as  to  recruiting,  and  very  shortly  the 
two  were  deep  in  the  details  of  the  subject.  But 
presently  the  discussion  changed  to  the  rebellion 
in  general,  and  a  remark  of  Lord  Elcho's  elicited  a 
quick  question. 

'  Why,  of  what  religion  is  the  Prince  then  ? " 

'  Well,  it's  difficult  to  say.  It's  true  he  did  at- 
tend the  Established  Kirk  when  he  first  came  down 
out  of  the  Highlands;  but  I  fear  me  his  religion  is 
still  to  seek."  Lord  Elcho  shook  his  head  as  he 
spoke. 

"Come  then;  that  is  not  such  bad  news  after 
all,"  responded  Pengraig  promptly.  "  It  makes 
our  case  even  more  hopeful  yet." 

"  I  don't  just  see  how  you  make  that  out," 
rejoined  the  other  cautiously. 

'  Well,  the  lad's  grandfather  lost  his  throne  be- 


106         FOR   THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

cause  of  his  bigoted  papistry,  and  there  are  thou- 
sands of  good  Protestants  now  holding  back  from 
joining  us  for  fear  the  Prince  is  bigoted,  too.  It  is 
Rome,  not  Stuart,  that  the  people  baulk  at.  But  if 
the  lad  has  no  particular  keenness  to  religion  we 
may  be  sure  he  will  never  attempt  to  cram  the  Pope 
down  our  throats.  Yea,  I  shall  have  a  new  argu- 
ment now  when  I  begin  to  try  and  persuade  the 
people." 

'  You  may  be  right,"  returned  Elcho  caustically. 

'  You  know  the  line,  '  the  devil  himself  can  quote 

scripture    to    his   purpose,'   but   it   seems   new   to 

quote  in  a  lad's  favour  that  he's  of  no  particular 

religion." 

'  There,  now  you  are  wresting  my  words  to  fit 
your  argument.  You  know  well  what  I  mean. 
Better  a  vague  religion  than  the  wrong  one  in  this 
case,  provided  the  lad  has  the  fear  of  God  in  his 
heart  and  a  due  reverence  for  the  things  his  people 
hold  most  sacred.  For  then,  you  see,  there  is  a 
prospect  that  he  may  see  no  objection  to  bringing 
up  his  future  sons  as  Protestants.  Drink,  man ! 
drink  with  me  to  that,  for  we'll  rouse  up  recruits 
from  every  corner,  now  that  we  can  tell  them  they 
need  fear  no  Pope  under  the  Prince's  bonnet." 

"  I'll  drink  with  you  then  to  that,"  replied  Elcho 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          IO/ 

with  a  dubious  smile.  "  Anything  that  will  bring 
us  in  recruits  is  to  be  welcomed;  for  I'll  not  hide 
from  you  that  it's  recruits  we're  sore  in  need  of." 

'  Then  your  need  will  not  be  sore  much  longer. 
Nay,  we'll  start  a  recruiting  party  this  very  night 
for  Manchester.  A  single  sergeant  and  his  drum- 
mer will  be  enough,  for  there  isn't  a  justice  in  all 
Christ's  Croft*  will  dare  or  desire  to  meddle  with 
the  White  Cockade  in  any  man's  hat  to-day." 

"  Are  you  so  sure,  then,  that  the  country  is  will- 
ing to  welcome  us  ?  " 

"  I  am,  and  to-morrow  you  shall  have  confirma- 
tion of  it,  for  there  are  two  more  Welsh  gentlemen ; 
the  Vaughans ;  who  were  to  leave  Wynstay  the  day 
after  I  did.  They  will  thus  bring  news  of  a  later 
state  than  mine,  but  you  will  see  that  they  will  but 
confirm  my  words." 

"  And  you  think  the  sergeant  will  gather  any 
recruits  ?"  said  Elcho. 

"  Recruits!  A  regiment!  Man,  I'll  warrant  you 
he  has  a  whole  regiment  ready  against  the  Prince's 
arrival. 

Lord  Elcho  fairly  smiled  at  last,  catching  the 
infection  of  the  cheerful  confidence  in  the  other's 

*  Christ's  Croft  is  that  part  of  Lancashire  lying  between  the 
Kibble  and  Mersey  ;  making  with  the  Fylde  and  Furness  the  three 
divisions  of  the  county. 


108         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

eyes.  "  Man,"  quoth  he;  "  I'll  hold  you  to  your 
warranty  in  that.  If  the  sergeant  gets  no  regiment 
in  Manchester  then  I'll  hold  you  to  pay  for  the  offi- 
cers' dinner  at  the  best  inn  of  that  town.  And  if 
I  lose  I'll  pay  the  same  with  the  lightest  heart  that 
ever  counted  silver  down  to  pay  a  debt  in  England." 

"  I  take  the  wager,"  retorted  the  other,  laugh- 
ing: "  and  in  the  meantime  let  us  go  and  see  what 
fortune  has  attended  our  recruiting  here." 

Henceforward  this  matter  of  the  recruiting  was 
the  one  passion  of  Pengraig,  and  when  they  arrived 
in  Manchester  he  was  cheerily  prompt  to  claim  the 
wager  from  Lord  Elcho.  "  Look  you!  did  I  not 
promise  you  a  regiment  ready  against  our  arrival  ? 
And  what  do  you  think  of  this  ? " 

"  I  think  it  is  queer  that  the  country  gentlemen 
should  bide  at  home,  each  at  his  own  hearth,  while 
the  townsmen  of  such  a  place  as  this  flock  to  join 
us,"  returned  Elcho  caustically.  "  Or  are  we  all 
crazy  this  journey  ?  " 

"  Ah,  you  are  thinking  of  the  last  rising.  Let 
that  lie ;  that  journey  wore  to  its  end  and  is  done 
with.  We  have  to  look  to  this.  But  the  wager  is 
won  and  I  claim  the  stakes ;  so  while  you  order  the 
dinner  I  will  go  and  issue  orders  for  the  collection 
of  all  the  arms  in  the  town." 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          109 

Later,  that  same  day,  the  two  Vaughans  met 
Pengraig  as  he  issued  from  his  lodgings.  "  Ah,  we 
were  just  coming  to  find  you,"  spoke  William. 
"  The  Prince  commands  your  presence  at  once. 
There  is  a  question  of  some  difficulty  as  to  who 
should  command  this  Manchester  regiment." 

"  I  do  not  see  where  the  difficulty  lies,"  replied 
Pengraig  instantly.  "  Some  gentleman  from  its 
own  ranks.  There  are  enough  (and  gallant  gentle- 
men too)  in  it  to  furnish  Colonels  for  a  small  army." 

"  But  the  Prince" — returned  William,  a  twinkle 
in  his  eye — "  thinks  that  the  best  commander  would 
be  a  certain  Welsh  gentleman  of  our  acquaintance. 
Esquire  Morgan,  as  they  call  him — yourself,  to 
wit." 

'  Then  the  Prince,  with  all  due  deference,  is 
wrong,"  retorted  Pengraig.  "  Let  that  Welsh  gen- 
tleman wait  till  he  can  command  a  Welsh  regiment, 
and  meanwhile  let  these  Lancashire  men  be  com- 
manded by  a  Lancashire  gentleman.  Is  there  not 
Mr.  Towneley  ?  and  who  should  be  'fitter  for  the 
post  than  a  member  of  the  family  which  has  suffered 
so  much  in  the  past  for  the  White  Rose  ?  At  the 
same  time,  gentlemen,  I  have  no  wish  to  influence 
you,  should  any  command  be  offered  to  you.  I 
merely  state  my  own  view." 


110         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

'  Which  is  that  of  both  my  nephew  and  myself," 
rejoined  William  heartily.  :<  For  myself,  I  shall 
remain  as  one  of  the  Prince's  Life  Guards  until  our 
Welsh  troops  appear." 

"And  I,"  added  the  younger  Vaughan,  with  a 
smile;  "  shall  stick  to  my  duties  under  the  Duke  of 
Perth." 

I  commend  you  both,"  said  Pengraig  gratefully, 
"  while  at  the  same  time  I  hope  that  your  reward 
may  be  speedy.  Certainly  Sir  Watkin  should  join 
us  in  three  or  four  days  at  farthest.  I  wonder  how 
Meredith  prospered  on  his  journey  ? " 

But  though  he,  confident  in  his  faith  in  Ithel, 
dismissed  the  wonder  at  the  moment  he  entered  the 
Prince's  presence  to  urge — and  carry — Towneley's 
appointment ;  yet  there  was  one  in  another  place 
who  could  not  so  lightly  put  the  same  wonder  from 
him — Gwgan  Maddox,  to  wit. 

Riding  into  Wrexham  from  Wynstay,  he  drew 
rein  and  lighted  down  under  the  swinging  sign  of 
the  Swan.  In  one  of  the  rooms  inside  he  found  a 
figure  all  swathed  and  muffled  up,  leaning  uneasily 
in  a"  chair  over  the  fire;  nursing  a  great  tankard  of 
mulled  ale. 

"  I  got  your  message  in  Rhiwvabon,  and  galloped 
up  here  immediately,"  began  Maddox.  "  But  what 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          III 

the  devil  is  wrong  that  you  look  so  surly  ?  Surely 
you  have  not  failed." 

"Failed!"  whined  the  other  huskily.  "Look 
at  me!"  throwing  back  the  great  riding  coat  and 
showing  himself  one  mass  of  wrappings  beneath. 

'  What  has  happened  then  ?"  cried  Maddox,  his 
face  paling  with  apprehension. 

"  Has  that  Meredith  got  back  yet  ?"  demanded 
the  other  by  way  of  reply. 

"No!  But  does  that  mean  that  he  escaped? 
Speak  out  you " 

"  Then  he  never  will  get  back,"  snarled  the  other 

showing  his  teeth  like  a  mongrel.     "D n  him! 

I  am  glad  I  fired.  I  knew  I  couldn't  miss  him  at 
that  distance.  I  was  so  close  I  could  almost  feel 
the  back-throw  from  his  body.  He's  lying  in  some 
ditch  then,  dead  and  stripped,  I'll  warrant.  Curse 
him!  " 

"  How  came  you  to  botch  the  job  so  ?  Stop  your 
snarling  and  tell  me  that,  you  miserable  scarecrow !  " 
broke  out  Maddox. 

"Scarecrow!"  repeated  the  other  in  a  blood 
curdling  whine.  Just  for  a  moment  he  seemed  as 
if  he  would  leap  upon  Maddox  and  murder  him 
outright.  Then  a  horrible  smile  flitted  across  his 
battered  features,  fascinating  the  other  with  the 


112         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

dreadful  maliciousness  of  it.  '  He!  he!  a  scare- 
crow! "he  whistled,  and  slowly  extending  his  left 
hand  he  took  the  paralyzed  Maddox  by  the  throat, 
choking  back  tfhe  call  for  help,  while  he  shook  him 
till  his  heels  clicked  together. 

"A  scarecrow;  hee!  hee!  What  a  pretty  little 
master  it  is  for  a  poor  man  to  have,"  he  went  on, 
as  with  a  final  jerk  he  flung  his  victim  into  the 
corner.  "  Now,  sir,"  continued  he,  "  get  up  and 
listen  till  I  tell  you  a  nice  little  fairy  tale.  You'll 
like  it  ever  so  much  I  know,  because  it's  all  about 
how  I  got  kicked  nearly  to  death — yes,  you'll  like 
that,  I  know.  Get  up!" 

Sick  in  body  and  soul  from  fear,  both  of  this  man 
and  what  he  was  about  to  tell,  Maddox  gathered 
himself  to  his  feet  and  crawled  to  a  chair. 

"  Yes,  sit  down,  Mr.  Maddox,"  repeated  Chapel; 
"  you  needn't  fear  any  more  of  my  little  playful- 
ness. You  see  we're  essential  to  each  other  now, 
because  I — but  there;  you  just  take  a  drink  of  this 
good  mulled  ale  and  then  listen." 

Utterly  demoralized,  Maddox  took  the  proffered 
tankard  and  drank,  handing  it  back  as  the  other 
commenced  his  story.  "  It  was  all  through  those 
infernal  soldiers  breaking  down  the  bridges  over  the 
Mersey,"  began  Chapel.  "  I  got  a  highwayman 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          113 

they  called  the  Narker  to  take  the  job  in  hand,  and 
he  set  a  fellow  to  wait  at  the  bridge  end  in  Warring- 
ton  and  pretend  to  be  the  bridge  keeper.  We  knew 
there  was  a  patrol  of  soldiers  who  would  fire  from 
this  side  at  anyone  who  showed,  and  so  this  bridge  » 
keeper  was  left  as  guide  to  decoy  Meredith  to  a 
ferry  down  the  river.  The  Narker  waited  in  the 
shadow  till  the  bargain  was  struck  and  then  rode 
down  and  crossed  before  them,  to  gather  his  men 
ready. 

"  But  the  ferryman  fooled  us  by  bringing  Mere- 
dith across  without  waiting  for  our  signal,  and  so 
before  we  could  get  up  to  the  landing  to  stop  him 
our  man  clapped  spurs  to  his  horse,  shot  down  the 
Narker,  and  got  away.  I  got  in  a  shot,  however, 
right  through  his  body  just  as  he  went  past. 

'  Then  the  Narker's  cutthroats  set  upon  me,  be- 
cause he  had  been  killed,  and  kicked  me  senseless; 
within  an  inch  of  my  life  in  fact,  and  when  I  came 
to  myself  next  morning,  I  found  I  had  been  robbed 
of  every  penny,  except  two  guineas,  sewn  into  my 
waistband  before  I  left  London. 

"  An  early  carter,  passing  that  way,  carried  me 
to  an  inn  some  miles  away  and  there  I  lay;  all  in 
a  pickle  of  turpentine,  spermaceti,  Solomon's  seal 
and  brandy,  till  this  morning.  And  I've  only  man- 


H4 

aged  to  ride  now  by  swearing  and  beating  the  horse 
every  stride  of  the  way,  in  order  to  ease  the  pain. 

"  And  now  what  is  the  next  move,  since  Meredith 
is  dead  ?"  ended  Chapel,  with  the  same  old  whine 
as  under  the  cedar  at  Wynstay. 

'  You  say  that  Meredith  is  dead,"  answered  the 
other,  now  composed  again ;  "but  I  tell  you  that  the 
next  move  is  to  find  out  if  he  really  is  dead.  You 
do  not  seem  to  understand  what  a  mess  we  are  in. 
For  all  we  know  Meredith  may  now  be  snugly  re- 
covering in  some  friendly  Jacobite's  bed.  We  can- 
not afford  merely  to  think  he  is  dead.  We  must 
have  proof.  You  shot  him  and  you  believe  he 
could  not  go  far.  But  that  is  not  enough.  If  you 
had  stripped  his  corpse  and  battered  his  face  till  no 
one  could  recognize  it  I  should  feel  easier.  His 
being  only  wounded  is  worse  than  his  being  well, 
for  then  we  could  start  afresh.  No,  the  first  move 
is  to  find  him,  dead  or  alive,  and  then  the  next  move 
will  show  itself." 

"  Then  give  me  three  days  and  thirty  guineas, 
and  I'll  do  it,"  replied  Chapel. 

"  Well,  I  can  just  manage  the  thirty  guineas  this 
once,"  returned  the  other;  "  but  remember  there 
must  be  no  failure  this  time.  For " 

"  Trust  me,"  broke  in  Chapel.     "  Am  I  likely  to 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          11$ 

fail  with  every  bone  in  my  body  sore  to  get  even 
with  the  cause  of  my  hurts  ?  Look  at  me  and  re- 
member it's  only  the  longing  for  revenge  that 
keeps  me  on  my  feet  at  all.  Do  you  think  any 
other  man  alive  could  have  pulled  through  such 
usage  ?  I  only  wonder  at  myself  being  here,  instead 
of  dead  yonder." 

"  Oh,"  ventured  Maddox,  with  a  flicker  of  mali- 
cious enjoyment.  "  You'll  get  over  that  and  be  as 
bad  as  ever  again.  It's  a  deal  better  than  hanging, 
you  know — there  is  no  getting  up  and  riding  away 
after  that." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  you  ought  to  know,"  retorted 
the  other.  "  A  man  generally  sees  what  is  ahead  of 
him  on  the  road  he's  travelling." 

"  We're  not  hung  yet,  nor  likely  to  be,"  returned 
the  other  sullenly. 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  say,  '  nor  likely  to  be,'  ' 
repeated  Chapel  unctuously. 

But  later,  when  mounting  to  return  to  Wynstay 
Maddox  varied  the  words.  "I'm  not  hung,"  mut- 
tered he  to  himself,  "  but  you  shall  be,  Master 
Chapel,  as  soon  as  I've  done  with  you." 


CHAPTER   XI 

BY  break  of  day  Chapel  was  in  the  saddle  again, 
with  many  a  curse  and  many  a  contortion,  taking 
the  return  trail  for  Fidler's  Ferry.  But  all  his  foxy 
movements  and  crafty  enquiries  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Delamere  Forest  were  fruitless  and  he 
came  at  length  to  the  conclusion  that  Meredith  had 
never  got  a  mile  away  from  the  spot  where  he  was 
wounded.  "  No  doubt  those  footpads  followed 
him,  as  soon  as  I  was  senseless,"  said  he  to  himself. 
'  They  would  find  him  lying  in  the  road  and  after 
stripping  him  would  perhaps  bury  the  body  out  of 
the  way.  Yes,  I  had  better  try  what  information  I 
can  get  out  of  that  Ferryman  again." 

Boldly  pursuing  this  plan  he  rode  to  the  ferryside 
and  hailed  the  hut  across  the  water.  He  had  no 
long  time  to  wait,  nor  did  he  lose  any  in  broaching 
his  point  when  the  boat  arrived.  '  You  remember 
me,  no  doubt,"  said  he,  at  once. 

'  Well,"  sarcastically  responded  the  somewhat 
startled  ferryman,  "  thou  wert  na'  killed  with  good 
looks  when  I  saw  thee  first,  and  I'm  hanged  if 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          II? 

thou'rt  much  the  handsomer  for  what  happened 
since.  But  so  long  as  thou  carries  that  snivel  with 
thee,  there'll  be  no  mistaking  thee.  And  what 
dost  ta  want  this  time  ?  " 

"  Only  something  that  you  can  do  yourself  with- 
out help,  and  for  which,  therefore,  you  can  draw  all 
the  pay." 

"  I'm  cuttin'  nobody's  throat  to-night,  my  lad," 
returned  Jone  decidedly. 

"  Nor  am  I,"  retorted  the  other.  "  All  I  want  is 
a  little  bit  of  information  which  you  can  give  and 
no  one  else  the  wiser." 

"  What  is  it  ?" 

"  It's  about  the  fellow  we  were  after  the  other 
night — the  one  who  shot  the  Narker. " 

"  Well?" 

"  He  was  shot  himself  at  the  same  time,"  pur- 
sued Chapel. 

"  Thou  ought  to  know,  since  thou  did  it  thysel'," 
returned  the  ferryman  drily,  "  especially  as  thou  got 
well  punced  after  it." 

A  hideous  grin  broke  out  like  some  strange  dis- 
ease in  Chapel's  features  before  he  proceeded. 
'  Yes,  very  well.  Now,  that  young  fellow  must  have 
dropped  out  of  the  saddle  before  he  went  very  far." 

"  Well?" 


Il8         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

"  Well,  if  you'll  show  me  where  that  man  is  lying, 
dead  or  alive,  I'll  give  you  half  as  much  as  the 
Narker  was  to  have  had  for  the  whole  of  you  the 
other  night.  You  remember  what  that  was,  I  sup- 
pose ? " 

"  Yea,  surely.  An'  dost  thou  remember  how 
much  puncin'  thou  got  from  Ned  o'  th'  Cloof  that 
same  night  ?  Well,  I  should  get  a  long  sight 
more  than  that  if  I  were  to  tell  thee  what  thou 
wants." 

"  What  has  Ned  of  the  Clough  to  do  with  it  ? " 
demanded  Chapel. 

"What  wilt  thou  give  to  know?"  replied  the 
other. 

"  Five  guineas!  " 

"  Keep  it  then  if  that's  all." 

"  Look  you,  Fidler,  I'll  make  it  ten  if  you'll  tell 
me  honestly  what  I  want  to  know." 

"  Done!  "  replied  the  ferryman. 
'  Well  ? "  interrogated  Chapel  impatiently. 
'  Thou's  never  given  me  the  brass  yet,"  returned 
the  other  with  exasperating  coolness. 

With  a  gasp  of  hatred,  Chapel  counted  down  the 
ten  guineas. 

'That's   some    bit   like,"    quoth    the    ferryman 
pocketing  the  coins. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          119 

"  Well  ?"  demanded  Chapel  impatiently. 

"  Don't  be  in  such  a  sweat,"  responded  the  other 
slowly. 

"  Remember  that  I  have  these,"  said  Chapel 
threateningly,  lifting  the  flaps  of  his  waistcoat  and 
showing  his  pistols. 

"  Aye,  and  I  remember  thou  had  them  t'other 
night,  but  thou  got  punced  just  the  same." 

"  Yes,  but  now  I  am  on  the  look  out  and  neither 
Ned  nor  you  could  do  it  a  second  time,"  retorted 
Chapel. 

"I'm  none  so  sure  of  that.  Shall  I  try  once  ?  " 
drawled  the  other. 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  but  tell  me  what  I've  paid  you 
to  tell." 

"  Aye,  I've  taken  thy  brass  and  I'll  do  as  I  bar- 
gained; for  I'm  game  to  satisfy  thee  any  way  thou 
likes;  either  fighting  or  talking.  Well,  Ned  o'  th' 
Cloof  has  had  that  lad  taken  to  a  place  where  he'll 
be  well  tended  till  he  gets  about  again." 

14  What's  that  for  ?  "  broke  out  Chapel  in  aston- 
ishment. '  Why  didn't  he  finish  him  where  he 
found  him  ? " 

'  Thou'd  better  axe  him.  I  never  sper  (enquire) 
aught  of  him  myself.  It's  naught  but  a  fool's 
job,  is  sperin'." 


120         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

"  But — remember  there  is  money  in  this  for  you 
— are  you  sure  ? " 

"  Happen  not,  but  I'll  just  go  over  and  tell  Ned 
thou'rt  wanting  to  know  summat  from  him.  He's 
yonder  in  th'  hut,  and  no  doubt  gettin'  tired  of 
waiting  for  me  to  come  back.  But  wiltna'  come 
o'er  thyself  ?  Ned's  said  a  time  or  two  that  he'd 
like  gradely  well  to  drop  across  thee  agen.  A  hun- 
dred guineas  are  none  so  oft  picked  out  of  one 
mon's  pocket  at  one  go." 

From  the  first  word  of  this,  Chapel  had  sat  still 
as  death  in  the  saddle,  for  the  other  had  begun  by 
sticking  one  hand  carelessly  into  the  great  pocket  of 
his  coat,  and  like  magic  the  wide  bell  mouth  of  a 
short  brass  blunderbuss  had  discovered  itself  under- 
neath the  skirt,  cocked  up  at  the  rider's  body. 
With  a  grim  chuckle  Jone  now  backed  aboard  his 
boat  again,  saying  mockingly  as  he  started  it  across, 
"  Canst  no'  yer  him  whistlin'  ?  He  ne'er  whistles 
but  once  with  his  own  muzzle:  th'  second  time  he 
does  it  with  a  musket.  And  thou'd  best  stond  out 
o'  th'  gate  if  he  begins  that." 

At  this  significant  hint  Chapel  turned  and  spurred 
away  out  of  both  eye  and  musket  shot  of  the  bank; 
whining  and  wagging  his  head  from  side  to  side  as 
he  went.  Then  he  drew  rein  and,  looking  back 


FOR   THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          121 

towards  the  river,  let  another  of  his  dreadful  grins 
spread  over  his  ghastly  visage.  "Aha!  my  little 
dears !  "  whined  he,  with  a  creepy  whisper  under  all. 
"  I  have  an  idea!  Yes,  my  pretty  lambs;  such  an 
idea  !  And  I'll  see  you  all  hung  together  in  the  nice 
little  flock  that  you  are  before  another  three  days 
pass.  Oh!  my  pets!  I'll  teach  you  to  play  tricks 
with  John  Chapel!" 

With  which  somewhat  peculiar  statement  the 
said  John  Chapel  put  his  horse  into  motion  once 
more,  by  the  clever  expedient  of  jabbing  the  spurs 
viciously  again  and  again  into  the  already  bleeding 
flanks  of  the  poor  brute — he  being  one  of  those 
riders  who  apparently  never  dream  that  there  is  any 
other  means  of  communication  with  a  horse,  except 
by  bit  and  spur. 

It  was  on  this  same  evening  that  the  army  of 
Prince  Charles  Edward  marched  into  Macclesfield 
from  Manchester  and  there,  within  ten  minutes  of 
their  arrival,  Lord  George  Murray  accosted  Pengraig 
with  news  of  the  enemy.  '  Well,  sir,"  said  he 
brusquely,  "  I  hear  that  the  Duke  of  Kingston  is 
holding  Congleton,  a  few  miles  ahead  of  us,  with 
a  strong  force  and  that  he  covers  a  great  army  close 
behind  him  commanded  by  the  Duke  of  Cumber- 
land himself.  What  say  you  ?  " 


122         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

11  That  the  Duke  of  Kingston  may  very  well  be 
in  Congleton ;  but  that  if  so,  he  has  only  a  rabble 
of  gentlemen  and  perhaps  a  handful  of  dragoons 
under  him.  But  as  to  Cumberland  I  do  not  believe 
he  is  anywhere  near  the  place.  If  you  will  send 
a  brisk  party  of  our  horse  against  the  outpost  to- 
morrow, I'll  warrant  you  will  go  through  it  like  a 
foot  through  paper  and  find  as  little  behind." 

Lord  George  mused  for  a  moment  in  silence  till  at 
length  he  said  slowly:  "  Perhaps  you  are  right,  sir. 
At  any  rate  there  is  no  other  course  to  take — for 
many  reasons,  as  you  know.  Therefore  Ker  shall 
take  the  horse  to-morrow — and  you,  I  suppose,  will 
want  to  go  with  him  in  the  forefront." 

"  Yes,  certainly,"  responded  Pengraig  emphati- 
cally. 

Very  early  the  next  morning  a  strong  party  of 
horse  moved  out  of  Macclesfield  under  Ker.  The 
enemy,  however,  made  no  attempt  to  dispute  the 
entrance  into  Congleton  against  them,  but  fell  has- 
tily back  on  the  road  to  Newcastle-under-Lyne; 
hotly  pursued  by  the  exulting  Jacobites. 

Closer  and  closer  then  did  the  eager  spirits  under 
Ker  press  the  retiring  foe,  until  the  steady  retreat 
became  a  disorganized  flight,  and  presently  Pen- 
graig caught  sight  of  a  village  ahead,  where  the  men 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         123 

of  a  supporting  force  of  dragoons  were  rushing 
wildly  about  to  saddle  and  mount  ere  the  rout 
should  reach  them.  Promptly  detaching  a  score  or 
two  of  the  gentlemen  nearest  to  him,  he  made  a 
sharp  circuit  to  come  up  in  rear  of  the  place  and  cut 
off  the  dragoons  before  they  could  join  the  flight. 

As  he  led  away  at  a  sharp  trot  he  turned  to  where 
lolyn  rode  at  his  bridle  elbow.  "  Now  lad!  "  cried 
he;  "  the  time  has  come  at  last  that  you've  been 
looking  for.  I  need  not  say  strike  deep." 

The  lad's  face  was  all  alight  and  moving  with  ex- 
citement, and  his  eyes  seemed  to  smoke  with  inten- 
sity as  he  waved  the  sword  in  his  grip  aloft.  They 
were  nearing  the  point ;  another  moment  and  the 
trap  would  be  complete,  when  suddenly  lolyn  lifted 
in  his  stirrups  and  cried  out.  "Faster!  Gallop! 
Gallop!  they  have  seen  us!  they  are  flying  too!  " 

No  need  for  a  special  order;  half  a  dozen  voices 
shouted  the  charge  and  every  spur  went  home  in 
wild  endeavour  to  cut  off  the  retreat.  But  the 
dragoons  were  pricking  out  pell-mell,  flying  for  dear 
life  along  the  road  to  the  rear,  and  the  headlong 
rush  of  the  Jacobites  struck  only  the  tail  of  the 
ruck. 

The  shock  was  decisive,  a  dozen  of  the  dragoons 
were  slain  or  sore  wounded,  and  twice  as  many 


I24 

unhorsed  or  taken  ;  while  those  who  escaped  did  but 
increase  the  panic  of  the  rest.  But  amongst  the 
prisoners  were  two,  not  dragoons,  whose  capture 
was  of  more  importance  than  all  the  rest  together. 

When  the  charge  went  home,  lolyn  found  in  front 
of  him  two  riders  in  civilian  dress,  the  nearest  of 
whom,  turning  to  make  away,  was  overthrown, 
horse  and  man ;  while  the  one  beyond,  firing  his 
holster  pistol,  broke  the  lad's  sword  short  off  with 
the  ball,  and  was  instantly  knocked  senseless  out 
of  the  saddle  by  a  stunning  blow  from  the  hilt  in 
return.  Leaping  to  the  ground  lolyn  drew  his 
bidog  and  seized  the  one  whom  he  had  first  over- 
thrown and  who  was  now  struggling  to  his  feet. 
But  before  the  blow  could  fall  Pengraig  leaned  over 
and  caught  the  lad's  wrist.  "  Quarter!  give  him 
quarter,  lolyn!  Not  slay  him  in  cold  blood." 

"  Did  they  give  my  mother  quarter  ?"  screamed 
the  lad.  "  They  hanged  her  in  cold  blood !  "  yelled 
he,  striving  desperately  to  free  his  hand. 

But  others  had  taken  in  the  scene  and  now  three 
or  four  gentlemen  leaped  down  to  drag  the  prisoner 
from  lolyn's  grip.  'The  spy!  the  spy!"  they 
shouted.  "  It  is  Weir,  Cumberland's  principal 
spy!" 

Baffled  and  furious,   lolyn  stood   for  a  moment 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         12$ 

with  blazing  eyes  and  then,  as  Pengraig  loosed  his 
grasp,  "  The  other  one!  "  he  cried  exultingly,  "  the 
one  I  knocked  into  the  ditch!  I'll  have  a  look  at 
that  one!  " 

Pengraig  pressed  up  close  upon  the  lad's  heels  and 
looked  into  the  ditch  also.  Then  a  pale  wave  swept 
over  his  face  and  he  leaped  down  just  in  time  to 
catch  the  lad's  wrist  a  second  time. 

For  lolyn,  with  one  hand  upon  the  collar  of  the 
reviving  man,  was  brandishing  his  bidog  aloft  as  he 
cried  over  his  shoulder,  tears  of  mad  exultation  in 
his  eyes:  "  This  one  I  may  kill!  this  is  servant  to 
Maddox.  This  is  John  Chapel  the  spy!  " 


CHAPTER   XII 

INSTANT  help  from  those  nearest  enabled  Pen- 
graig  to  save  Chapel  from  sudden  death,  and  a  grim 
speech  into  lolyn's  ear  aided  to  bring  down  his  fury 
to  demoniac  gibberings  of  unholy  rejoicing.  "  Bet- 
ter than  the  knife,  lolyn.  He  shall  hang  as  a  spy. 
Do  you  hear  ?  He  shall  hang!  " 

The  prisoners  were  no  sooner  secured  however, 
than  General  Ker  commanded  immediate  resump- 
tion of  the  advance  against  Newcastle,  and  Pengraig 
was  particularly  requested  to  take  his  handful  to  the 
front  at  once.  He  took  lolyn  with  him,  in  order  to 
make  sure  that  no  sudden  paroxysm  of  rage  should 
cut  off  Chapel  before  confession  had  been  extracted 
from  him ;  but  before  he  started  he  hinted  to  the 
General  the  full  importance  of  the  one  as  well  as  the 
other  captive. 

'  Then  I  will  send  them  back  to  Congleton  under 
guard,  for  examination  and  to  wait  your  return," 
answered  Ker  at  once. 

During  all  the  rest  of  the  advance  lolyn  rode 
with  his  face  over  his  shoulder,  looking  back  towards 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  I2/ 

the  place  of  capture  as  if  already  he  could  see  the 
gibbet  and  its  black  fruit.  Now  and  again  Pengraig, 
riding  with  stern  face  beside  him,  would  check  the 
lad's  muttering,  but  for  the  more  part  he  himself 
seemed  like  a  man  who  has  been  wounded  in  his 
nearest  point.  "  If  Chapel,  then  what  of  Chapel's 
master  ?"  thought  he  to  himself;  "  and  if  Chapel's 
master,  then  what  of  Sir  Watkin's  rising  ?  We 
ought  to  have  heard  some  rumour  of  it  by  this  time. 
I  must  turn  that  fellow  inside  out  if  need  be  to  get 
at  the  truth." 

So  racked  was  he  with  apprehension  and  forebod- 
ing of  what  Chapel's  presence  with  Weir  might  be- 
token, that,  when  at  length  the  word  was  given  to 
return,  he  lost  no  time  in  excusing  himself,  and, 
accompanied  by  lolyn,  pushed  back  at  a  round  pace 
for  Congleton.  But  here,  like  a  blow  in  the  face, 
the  first  word  was  that  the  prisoner  had  escaped. 

Escaped!"  He  towered  with  grim  visage  in 
front  of  the  airy  young  gentleman  who  had  com- 
manded the  escort.  "  Escaped,  sir.  And  how  ?" 

'  Why,  sir,"  returned  the  other  feebly,  now  stand- 
ing shamefaced  under  the  wrathful  demand:  "It 
was  most  unmannerly;  I  do  protest.  We  were 
half  way  back  here  and  passing  along  the  edge  of  a 
close  wood  of  young  pines,  so  thick  that  you  would 


128         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

swear  a  terrier  could  not  scratch  through,  let  alone 
a  horse.  And  this  prisoner  fellow — to  look  at  him 
you  would  take  oath  that  he  had  never  recovered 
from  the  blow  that  knocked  him  out  of  the  saddle ; 
nay,  so  dazed  and  sick  did  he  seem  that  I  gave 
orders  to  loose  his  wrists  so  that  he  could  clutch  the 
saddlebow.  But  he  did,  sir!  "  protested  the  officer 
with  emphasis,  as  Pengraig  broke  out  with  a  savage 
groan  at  hearing  of  the  first  stroke  of  folly.  "  What 
would  you,  sir  ?  When  his  feet  were  still  tied  and 
a  trooper  had  hold  of  his  horse  by  the  bridle  rein  ? 
How  was  I  to  expect  such  a  thing,  when  the  wood 
was  at  its  thickest  and  he  was  at  his  sickest  just 
there  ? 

"  For  he  suddenly  lurched  so  violently  against  the 
one  holding  his  rein  as  to  make  the  man  drop  that 
and  catch  at  him  to  save  him  from  tumbling  into  the 
road.  And  then — none  of  us  knew  just  how — the 
fellow  was  as  all  alive  as  a  madman.  He  slapped 
his  horse  on  both  shoulders  at  once,  as  loud  as  a 
musket,  and  let  out  a  yell  like  forty  devils  together. 
The  horse  sprung  away  like  a  shot,  scared  out  of 
his  life,  and  at  the  second  stride  the  rider  had  the 
rein  and  turned  him  straight  away  into  a  path  that 
nobody  but  a  poacher  could  have  ever  noticed.  He 
must  have  been  looking  for  just  such  a  path. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          129 

"  Of  course  we  all  went  after  him  and  then  this 
other  Weir  fellow  made  off  too ;  and  while  I  and 
some  of  the  rest  ran  this  one  down  again  the  others 
couldn't  catch  the  first  one;  the  trees  were  so 
thick  and  he  was  so  quick,  besides  that  the  path 
wound  and  forked  so  that  most  of  them  ran  into 
bogs. 

"  In  fact,  sir,"  ended  the  officer,  as  one  with  a 
righteous  grievance;  "  the  fellow  must  have  had  his 
plan  laid  from  the  very  first." 

"  Ho!  "  returned  Pengraig  grimly;  "  and  did  you 
think  he  was  in  any  other  mood  ?  Or  perhaps  you 
imagined  that  his  one  desire  was  to  come  here  to 
be  hung,  and  that  he  had  been  placed,  not  in  your 
charge,  but  under  your  care,  that  you  might  sustain 
him  with  creature  comforts  on  the  road  ?" 

"  But,  sir,"  protested  the  officer,  now  in  ag- 
grieved astonishment,  "  I  never  dreamed  of  his 
attempting  such  a  thing  or  I  should  have  watched 
him  closer!  " 

No  doubt  it  is  a  monstrous  ingratitude  in  a  man 
that  he  should  turn  his  back  upon  a  nice  comfortable 
gallows;  especially  in  these  times  when  one  finds  it 
so  hard  to  come  by  any  assured  settlement  of  one's 
daily  affairs.  Yea,  I  protest  it  is  a  marvellous  aber- 
ration of  the  intellect,  and  should  be  held  sufficient 
9 


130         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

to  establish  such  a  man  as  non  compos  mentis.  It  is 
staggering;  no  less." 

"  Well,  sir,"  retorted  the  other,  more  than  a 
little  nettled;  "  I  did  at  least  bring  in  Weir  safe 
enough,  and  he  is  the  most  important  of  the  two." 

"Is  he?"  returned  Pengraig,  "  I  pray  heaven 
he  may  be,  and  that  the  escape  of  that  scoundrel 
Chapel  may  not  mean  some  fatal  miscarriage  of  the 
Welsh  rising." 

During  all  this  explanation  lolyn  had  been  hover- 
ing with  impatient  feet  about  the  two  speakers ;  gib- 
bering with  noiseless  lips :  his  eyes  aflame  with  fero- 
cious light,  the  while  he  fingered  the  bidogan  at  his 
belt.  But  now,  as  Pengraig  turned  sharply  to 
rebuke  him,  he  lifted  his  face  to  the  sky  and  raised 
a  long  blood-curdling  yell,  beating  the  while  with 
open  hand  upon  his  parted  lips,  breaking  the  sound 
into  a  horrible  cacophony  that  made  all  save  Pen- 
graig fall  shuddering  back  as  if  from  a  sudden 
demon. 

The  other  had  opened  his  lips  to  check  him,  but 
before  the  words  could  break  through  the  torrent  of 
appalling  sound  lolyn  had  turned  and  leaped  upon 
his  horse,  crying  as  he  dashed  away,  "  I'll  find  John 
Chapel!  And  when  I  do  I'll  tie  him  fast  with  the 
edge  of  my  bidogan  !  " 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          131 

It  would  have  been  useless  to  have  attempted  to 
overtake  him,  and  moreover  Pengraig  devoutly 
hoped  that  he  might  by  some  marvellous  upcast 
succeed  in  overhauling  the  escaped  scoundrel. 
Therefore  he  stood  and  watched  him  as  with  relent- 
less knee  the  lad  pushed  southward  again.  Not 
until  he  was  out  of  sight  of  those  he  left  behind  did 
lolyn  draw  down  to  an  easier  pace  for  the  sake  of 
his  horse.  "  I  shall  need  him  before  the  day  is 
out,"  muttered  he,  patting  the  willing  crest  as  he 
spoke. 

When  he  came  to  the  wood  he  kept  a  wary  eye 
until  he  detected  the  path  by  which  the  prisoner 
had  escaped,  but  instead  of  following  it  he  took 
good  note  of  its  location  and  then  pressed  forward 
again. 

'  Two  or  three  of  those  dragoons  were  badly 
wounded,"  said  he  as  he  trotted  on.  '  They'll  be 
lying  now  somewhere  in  that  village ;  drawing  nearer 
and  surer  along  to  death  with  every  gasp  that  drags 
through  their  throats.  One  of  them  shall  tell  me 
what  John  Chapel  was  doing  with  them — I'll  make 
them  tell  me." 

Reaching  the  village  he  found  that  one  of  the 
dying  men  had  been  carried  into  the  cottage  of  a 
poor  widow,  beside  whose  garden  fence  the  skirmish 


132          FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO 

had  happened.  Dismounting  at  the  door,  "  Yea," 
muttered  lolyn  through  twitching  lips,  "  I'll  make 
them  tell,  if  I  rive  their  last  minutes  of  life  out." 

But  as  he  came  beside  the  bed,  the  sight  of  the 
grey  lips  and  drawn  and  bloody  features  smote  his 
heart  to  a  sudden  flood  of  pity.  "  Och !  "  he 
cried,  "  is  there  nothing  I  can  do  to  help  you  ?  Can 
I  not  get  you  something  to  ease  your  pain  ?  Here 
is  brandy  in  my  flask — will  you  have  some  warm 
milk  and  brandy  ?  Surely  that  would  do  you 
good  ?" 

"Aye,    that's  it,"   groaned   the    wounded   man: 

brandy  will  warm  me.  Something  to  warm  me! 
My  feet  are  so  cold,  and  my  hands,  too,  and  my 
heart  is  shivering  and  freezing  under  my  ribs." 

"  I  have  some  cream — wouldn't  that  be  better, 
sir  ?  "  put  in  the  poor  old  widow  from  the  other  side 
of  the  bed.  "  And  a  spoonful  of  honey  to  sweeten 
it,  too,"  she  went  on,  as  she  moved  away  to  get 
both ;  while  lolyn  half  shouted  "  Yes  "  as  he  stooped 
on  the  hearth  to  rouse  the  fire. 

Snatching  down  the  funnel-shaped  copper  warming 
utensil  from'  the  cornice  above,  he  thrust  its  sharp 
base  deep  into  the  blazing  faggots  as  the  tender- 
hearted widow  poured  the  cream  into  it.  Then  the 
honey,  clear  from  a  newly  broken  comb,  and  in  an- 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          133 

other  moment  he  had  added  the  brandy  and  poured 
the  whole  steaming  mixture  into  a  mug,  which  he 
was  holding  to  the  shaking  lips  of  the  dragoon. 
(There  was  no  doctor  there  to  check  them.) 

"Aye,  that's  it,"  said  the  stricken  man  with  a 
deep  sigh  as  the  other  supported  him.  '  That's  all 
the  comfort  I  can  have  now.  Let  me  die  warm  at 
least  since  I  am  to  die.  I've  lain  in  the  cold  and 
the  wet ;  in  the  snow  and  the  frost  so  many  a  year 
past — let  me  die  warm  at  last !  " 

The  twitch  of  the  mangled  right  arm,  as  the  poor 
fellow  involuntarily  attempted  to  wipe  his  mouth 
after  the  drink,  brought  the  tears  into  lolyn's  eyes, 
and  he  wiped  the  quivering  lips  as  tenderly  as  a 
father  might  wipe  the  lips  of  a  dying  child.  "  And 
I  came  in  swearing  I'd  force  you  to  tell  me  about 
that  damnable  whining  spy  of  a  John  Chapel!  "  he 
broke  out  in  savage  self-disgust.  "  But  you'll  for- 
give me  that,  won't  you  ?"  ended  he,  with  a  pa- 
thetic appeal  in  his  face. 

"Ah!  but  you  never  would  have  done  it,  I 
know,"  answered  the  dragoon,  with  in  his  voice  the 
weary  smile  into  which  his  drawn  features  could  not 
relax. 

"  But  still  he  is  a  spy,"  protested  lolyn,  as  if 
arguing  against  his  better  nature. 


134        FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

"  And  what  should  I  have  been  if  I  had  told 
you  ? "  said  the  other  faintly. 

"  Drink  of  this  again,"  returned  lolyn,  proffering 
the  cup — token  of  his  defeat  in  the  argument. 

But  while  the  dragoon  thanked  him  with  a  look,  a 
new  path  opened.  "  Did  you  say  a  whining  spy, 
sir  ? "  said  the  widow.  "  One  with  his  face  all  dam- 
aged, and  riding  a  dun  horse  ?  And  his  eyes  like 
dead  fishes'  eyes,  sir  ?  I  heard  him  talking  to  Mr. 
Weir  when  he  first  rode  in  to  the  village." 

"  Did  you  ?"  said  lolyn  eagerly;  "  then  tell  me 
every  word  they  said :  him  with  the  whine  espe- 
cially. And  if  you  can  tell  me  what  I  want  to  know, 
mother,  I'll  send  you  money  enough  to  keep  you 
all  the  days  of  your  life.  Tell  me  now." 

"La!  sir,"  answered  she  sadly,  shaking  her  head 
at  what  she  thought  was  a  mere  youthful  reckless- 
ness of  speech.  "  It  would  take  many  a  bright 
guinea  to  do  that,  but  I'll  thank  you  kindly  and 
tell  you  what  I  can,  all  the  same.  The  one  that 
whined  rode  in  with  a  soldier  and  asked  for  Mr. 
Weir,  and  as  soon  as  they  got  to  talking  began  to 
say  that  he  had  been  sent  to  capture  a  rebel  officer 
(for  that's  what  they  call  all  you  gentlemen,  sir: 
rebels !  As  if  you  were  not  fighting  for  the  right.) 
This  rebel  officer  was  carrying  despatches  from  the 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  135 

Prince,  and  the  whining  spy  said  that  he  had 
wounded  him  and  now  wanted  a  troop  of  dragoons 
to  go  and  take  him  out  of  a  Tory  nest  he'd  got 
into.  Then  they  got  arguing  and  whining  and  I 
couldn't  catch  the  words  because  they  moved  their 
horses,  and  I  didn't  dare  go  closer  for  fear  it  should 
be  wrong." 

But  surely  you  heard  more  than  that,"  begged 
lolyn,  rising  and  extending  his  hands  in  adjuration 
towards  the  woman.  '  Just  think ;  that  rebel  officer 
that  was  wounded  was  Ithel ;  poor  Presgwyn — 
surely  you  heard  Chapel  say  where  the  rebel  nest 
was  ? ' ' 

"I'm  very  sorry,  sir,  indeed,"  answered  the  poor 
widow,  more  than  a  little  moved  by  his  distress. 
"  I'm  sure  I'd  have  told  you  and  gladly  if  I  could. 
But  I  couldn't  catch  what  they  said  and  I  didn't 
hear  any  name  of  a  place  at  all." 

"  And  that  is  just  the  thing  that  I  wanted  to 
know  :  the  thing  for  which  I  would  have  given 
everything  I  had,"  groaned  lolyn.  "  But  I  must 
after  this  Chapel — the  fools  have  let  him  escape 
again— 

"And  I  hope  you'll  catch  him,  sir,"  put  in  the 
soldier,  summoning  his  fast  ebbing  strength  to  speak. 
"  Only  for  him  we'd  never  have  been  surprised. 


136         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

It  was  our  sentry  that  left  his  outpost,  like  a  gaping 
gander  of  a  fool;  thinking  he'd  done  wonderful  and 
captured  a  prisoner.  That's  what  comes  of  put- 
ting recruits  to  old  soldiers'  duty.  And  that's  why 
I'll  be  dead  in  another  twenty  minutes  while  the 
recruit  and  the  spy  get  clean  off.  Ah  well,  it's  all 
in  the  service!  what's  one  old  soldier  more  or  less  to 
be  moaned  over! " 

"  Here,  drink  again,"  said  lolyn  quickly,  hold- 
ing the  cup  once  more.  "  And  you 're  not  dead  yet 
by  a  long  shot.  Moreover,  I  promise  you  that, 
whatever  comes  of  the  recruit,  the  spy  shall  not 
come  clean  off.  No,  not  John  Chapel;  nor  yet 
John  Chapel's  master.  I  am  going  now ;  and  when 
I  find  them — but  here,  mother,  here  you  are,"  he 
broke  off,  passing  his  purse  to  the  widow.  '  That's 
all  I've  got,  barring  some  loose  silver,  and  I  know 
you'll  do  your  best  to  nurse  our  poor  friend  here  to 
strength  again." 

"  Ah,  I  know,"  broke  in  the  dying  dragoon  wea- 
rily. "  I've  been  wounded  a  many's  the  time  be- 
fore, but  this  time  I'm  killed — I  know,"  and  he 
shook  his  head  gently  in  spite  of  the  pain. 

The  hasty  protestation  died  on  lolyn 's  lips  and 
the  soldier  nodded  feebly  as  he  continued.  "  No, 
no.  I  know.  Only  let  her  give  me  brandy  like 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          137 

that  to  keep  me  warm  till  I  die.  I've  lain  out  in 
the  cold  so  long,  I  want  to  die  warm  at  last.  Let 
me  die  warm — that's  enough  for  me." 

lolyn  turned  to  the  widow  again.  '  Yes,  sir, " 
said  she  earnestly,  "  everything  that  I  can  do  and 
get  for  him,  I  will.  And  there's  two  others  in  John 
Webster's  cottage — can  I  give  John  Webster  some- 
thing out  of  the  purse  too  ?  " 

'  Whatever  you  like,"  answered  lolyn:  "  and  if 
you  run  short  with  the  purse  then  go  and  ask  Pen- 
graig  for  more;  he  is  the  Prince's  Counsellor,  and 
he'll  give  you  all  you  want.  Say  that  I  told  you  so; 
say  lolyn  sent  you.  He'll  do  it  then.  And  so  good- 
bye to  you  both,  and  " — this  to  the  dragoon — "  be 
sure  that  I'll  settle  with  the  spy  that  got  you  hurt." 

Once  outside  again  he  did  not  even  wait  for  the 
stirrup  but  vaulted  into  the  saddle  and  started  off 
at  a  trot.  When  he  reached  the  place  of  Chapel's 
escape  he  promptly  plunged  along  the  path ;  a  mere 
trail  made  by  animals  seeking  other  grazing  grounds, 
and  after  something  like  half  a  mile  of  devious 
turnings  emerged  into  a  broad  lane.  A  couple  of 
miles  further  on  and  he  came  to  a  village  where 
the  gossips  had  not  yet  finished  spluttering  forth 
their  excited  wonderings  at  the  flight  of  the  man 
with  the  blood  on  his  face. 


138         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

"  That  was  my  hilt,"  said  lolyn,  as  he  sat  for  an 
instant  longer  listening  to  the  flood  of  words;  half 
a  dozen  talking  at  once. 

But  as  he  pushed  on  he  kept  a  keen  lookout  for 
the  trail  of  the  fugitive's  horse. 

'  There  it  is,"  he  would  mutter  from  time  to 
time;  "  three  great  slab  hoofs  and  one  mule  shaped. 
It's  as  plain  as  print  in  the  mud." 

At  the  next  village  he  found  that  Chapel  had 
checked  long  enough  to  get  someone  to  cut  the 
bonds  which  had  bound  his  feet  under  his  horse. 

'  Then  he's  free  to  get  down  and  dart  into  a 
thicket  if  he  thinks  need  of  it,"  commented  lolyn, 
as  he  lifted  the  rein  and  followed  on. 

But,  scantly  a  mile  further  on,  he  came  to  a  little 
hamlet  at  a  cross  roads,  and  here  he  learnt  that  his 
man  had  passed  through  at  a  walk.  '  He  thinks 
there's  no  pursuit,"  commented  lolyn  again. 
'  That  is  on  my  side  and  so  I  may  presently  run 
him  down  in  some  alehouse,  drinking  his  own 
health  to  his  own  escape.  Ho!  if  only  I  can  just 
drop  in  on  him  when  the  can  is  at  his  lips ! 

"  But  it's  weary  on  us  that  Pengraig  would  not 
believe  me  that  night  at  Wynstay,  or — yea,  that  is 
what  I  ought  to  have  done,  I  ought  to  have  bido- 
gan'd  the  spy,  there  in  the  midst  of  them  all:  aye 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          139 

and  Maddox  with  him;  and  Maddox's  Pencenedl, 
with  all  the  cursed  tribe  of  them.  What!  Ten 
tribes  can  never  undo  the  harm  of  one  traitor!  " 

Thus  while  he  muttered,  he  yet  never  lost  sight 
of  the  track  he  followed.  Chapel  had  apparently 
headed  a  course  which  would  fetch  him  by  a  wide 
sweep  to  Stafford.  He  evidently  believed  that  the 
troops  holding  Newcastle  had  been  driven  out  and 
forced  to  retreat  upon  their  next  support,  and  so 
was  himself  falling  back  upon  the  same  point.  The 
pursuer  guessed  all  this.  ' '  Aye,  he  is  going  south, 
said  he,  "  while  it  is  certain  that  Ithel  is  lying 
wounded  somewhere  west  or  north  of  us.  But 
never  mind,  if  only  I  stick  to  John  Chapel's  trail 
I  shall  find  Presgwyn  at  last.  And  meanwhile  if 
I  am  to  overtake  him  at  all  it  must  be  quickly,  for 
night  will  soon  shut  down  on  us  in  a  country  which 
he  evidently  knows  very  well  and  I  not  at  all." 

In  spite,  therefore,  of  the  weariness  of  his  horse, 
he  pushed  on  faster  yet,  and  just  as  day  was  gloom- 
ing down  to  dark  he  caught  sight  of  his  man. 

But  it  was  unexpectedly  and  at  a  point  a  couple 
of  miles  earlier  than  inquiries  had  led  him  to  expect, 
so  that  he  flushed  him  only  to  lose  him.  For  the 
horse  that  had  been  walking  drew  away  easily, 
stride  over  stride,  from  the  one  already  distressed  in 


140         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO 

the  pursuit,  and  the  hastily  snapped  pistols  sent 
their  bullets  ploughing  harmlessly  into  the  road, 
lengths  in  rear  of  their  object. 

The  dash  was  short,  hopeless  from  the  first,  as 
lolyn  speedily  recognized,  and  half  a  mile  further 
on  his  horse  stumbled  so  persistently  and  danger- 
ously that  he  was  forced  to  pull  in  to  a  trot,  lest  the 
poor  leg-weary  beast  should  cross  and  come  down 
altogether. 

Then  the  night  shut  down  and  the  fugitive  was 
escaped  indeed ;  leaving  his  pursuer,  with  a  horse 
dead  lame,  in  a  strange  country. 

"  But  it's  only  for  the  present,  friend  Chapel," 
grinned  lolyn  with  bare  teeth.  "  I'll  get  you  yet. 
Yea,  I'll  get  you  just  as  surely  in  the  end." 


CHAPTER   XIII 

WHEN  Pengraig  had  seen  the  last  of  lolyn  as  the 
latter  disappeared  down  the  road  in  leaving,  he 
turned  and  commanded  that  Weir  should  be  brought 
before  Lord  George  Murray  at  once.  Leading  the 
way  himself  he  was  therefore  present  when  Weir, 
under  threat  of  present  hanging,  confessed  all  he 
knew  as  to  the  numbers  and  positions  of  the  troops 
under  the  Duke  of  Cumberland.  Yet,  though  he 
thereby  expected  to  have  purchased  his  life  again,  it 
was  only  by  dint  of  Charles  Edward's  positive  order 
that  he  escaped  an  immediate  gibbet;  for  with  that 
horror  of  all  severity  which  was,  perhaps,  a  weak- 
ness with  him,  the  Prince  had,  before  leaving  Mac- 
clesfield,  delivered  his  written  commands  that  all 
captured  spies  should  be  reserved,  after  examina- 
tion, to  be  dealt  with  by  himself  alone.  These 
orders,  now  exhibited  for  the  first  time  to  the 
officers  and  chiefs  by  Lord  George,  sufficed  to  gain 
a  respite  for  Weir  till  he  could  be  brought  next 
night  before  the  Prince  at  Ashbourne,  whose  merci- 
ful instincts  then  made  excuses  for  the  captured 


142          FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO 

wretch  and  so  provided  a  future  witness  whose 
testimony  was  afterwards  to  be  so  fatal  to  more 
than  one  of  his  gallant  followers. 

Yet,  even  before  the  Prince's  commands  had 
been  shown  on  his  behalf,  the  spy  had  stubbornly 
stuck  to  it  that  he  knew  nothing  whatever  of 
Chapel.  Rather  he  professed  to  believe  that  the 
latter  had  been  an  emissary  of  Lord  George's  own, 
sent  to  befool  them  with  some  plausible  tale  where- 
by to  keep  them  engrossed  till  the  Jacobite  advance 
could  surprise  them — "  as  had  in  fact  happened." 

"  And  what  was  this  plausible  tale  ?"  demanded 
Pengraig. 

"  That  the  Welsh  were  rising  and  that  we  ought 
to  send  troops  against  them  at  once ;"  answered 
Weir  unhesitatingly.  Then,  as  he  saw  the  light 
flash  up  into  the  face  of  Pengraig,  he  mentally  con- 
gratulated himself.  "  For,"  thought  he,  "  if  I  can 
only  get  you  to  halt  your  precious  army  here  for  a 
few  days;  waiting  for  the  Welsh,  then  by  that  time 
the  Duke  will  have  concentrated  his  troops  against 
you  from  the  south  while  Wade  will  be  upon  you 
from  the  north  and  then — ah  then." 

But  Lord  George's  next  speech  effectually  dashed 
his  hope.  "  Ah,  if  Cumberland  be  scattered  so, 
from  Coventry  to  Newcastle,  then  we  need  trouble 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          143 

no  more  about  him.  We  have  only  to  slip  past 
and  continue  on  to  London  and  he  will  at  once 
retreat,  since  he  will  fancy  that  we  are  trying  to  cut 
him  off  in  rear  till  the  Welsh  can  reach  him  in  front. 
He  will  think  himself  far  too  shrewd  to  wait  till  he 
is  caught  between  two  fires." 

"  But  why  not  make  the  feint  a  reality  ?"  urged 
Pengraig.  "  Surely  it  were  better  to  crush  him  at 
once,  and  then  the  road  to  London  will  be  more  than 
clear." 

Nay,  sir.  Pardon  me:  you  do  forget.  It  is  a 
race  already  betwixt  ourselves  and  Wade,  from  the 
other  Newcastle — that  upon  Tyne — and  if  we  stay 
to  join  the  Welsh;  without  which  it  would  be  folly 
to  fight  the  overwhelming  numbers  of  the  Duke, 
then  Wade  will  simply  slip  past  and  fortify  London 
against  us.  No :  let  me  quote  your  own  words 
against  you,  sir,  when  first  you  spoke  to  the  Prince 
— '  Forward  is  our  word  and  London  our  object.' 
Your  words  are  even  wiser  now  than  then,  for  we 
are  so  far  into  England  that  our  only  safety  lies  in 
ultimate  victory — and  ultimate  victory  lies  in  the 
possessing  London.  Therefore  the  sooner  we  pos- 
sess it,  the  better.  Forward  then  is  the  word." 

"  Aye ;  but,  let  us  make  sure  before  we  finally  give 
the  word,"  answered  Pengraig.  "  This  is  a  momen- 


144         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO 

tous  decision  when  it  is  given  and  it  may  well  be 
the  making  or  the  marring  of  us — 

There  was  more  of  such  discussion  and  many  ar- 
guments this  way  and  that  in  the  matter.  Pro  and 
con  they  sat  together  in  a  long  half-hour's  debate; 
but  in  the  end  Lord  George  prevailed  and  so  next 
day  a  forced  march  was  made  to  Ashbourne,  where 
they  rejoined  the  main  body  under  Prince  Charles 
Edward,  whose  troops  had  come  from  Macclesfield 
by  a  nearer  route. 

From  Ashbourne  the  march  was  to  Derby,  and  as 
the  van  left  the  town  Lord  Elcho  rode  alongside 
Pengraig.  "Ah,"  said  he  drily;  "I  mind  you 
promised  us  a  Welsh  army  by  the  time  we  reached 
this  place.  What;  man,  it  is  a  brave  army  no 
doubt ;  but  would  you  object  to  opening  your  pouch 
and  let  us  have  a  look  at  it.  How  many  thousand 
are  there  ? "  ended  he  quizzically. 

For  the  first  instant  Pengraig  was  minded  to  re- 
sent the  jest,  but  the  saturnine  twinkle  in  the  young 
lord's  eye  was  irresistible.  'Why  now,"  laughed 
he  in  return  ;  "  I  am  afraid  to  open  my  pouch,  for  we 
all  know  how  keen  you  Scots  are  after  the  silver,  and 
it's  likely  you'd  be  wanting  to  sell  me  some  mouldy 
old  Peel  and  a  patch  of  hungry  heather  in  return 
for  my  good  coin  ;  so  that  you  could  settle  down  like 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          145 

all  the  rest  in  Nova  Scotia — I   mean  the  London 
Nova  Scotia;  not  the  one  over  sea." 

"  Well,"  returned  the  other,  still  smiling;  "  an'  if 
these  Welsh  of  yours  don't  join  us  soon,  I'm 
thinking  I  should  well  like  to  sell  you  every  tower 
I've  got;  Peel  or  castle;  mouldy  or  otherwise,  and 
as  much  of  the  heather  as  you'll  take  in  with  the 
rest.  Moreover  I'll  not  be  haggling  about  the 
bawbees  for  it  either:  just  enough  to  see  me  over 
to  France  and  keep  me  from  starvation  when  I  get 
there.  When  do  you  look  now  to  hear  of  your 
Welsh  ?" 

"  At  any  moment.     Certainly  this  day." 

"  Before  we  reach  Derby  ? " 

"  Yes.     I  feel  sure  of  it,"  returned  Pengraig. 

"  Do  you  feel  sure  enough  to  bet  on  it  ? "  pur- 
sued Lord  Elcho. 

"Certainly;  the  same  bet  as  before.  Another 
dinner  to  be  had  in  Derby  to-night,  just  as  the 
other  was  in  Manchester." 

'  Well;  I  feel  more  comfortable.  When  a  man 
bets  it  shows  that  he  has  confidence  in  himself  at 
least.  And  I'll  not  deny  to  you,  Pengraig" — the 
twinkle  died  out  and  left  a  grave  look  in  the 
speaker's  face — "  I'll  not  deny  that  we  have  great 
need  of  some  such  occurrence  as  the  joining  of  some 


146         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO 

new  army  to  our  own.  It's  a  thing  that  has  not 
been  properly  counted  on  by  our  leaders,  is  this  that 
some  of  the  Highland  chiefs  are  muttering  one  to 
another." 

"  And  what  are  they  muttering  ?"  returned  Pen- 
graig  quickly;  alert  for  any  symptom  of  the  dis- 
union which  he  had  been  long  enough  in  the  Prince's 
counsels  to  dread. 

It's  just  this,  there's  many  a  man  in  this  army 
who  joined  it  more  for  love  of  Scotland  than  for  love 
of  the  Prince  himself.  Or,  to  put  it  another  way, 
there's  many  a  man  joined  us  because  he  thought 
that  Scotland's  only  hope  lies  in  the  Prince.  You 
must  not  forget  that  it's  the  Act  of  Union  which 
sticks  in  Scotland's  gorge.  The  taking  away  of  our 
Parliament  and  separate  estate  sticks  with  many  a 
man  who  would  not  care  a  bodle  whether  George  or 
Jamie  wore  the  crown,  so  that  he  wore  it  in  Holy- 
rood.  Well,  these  men  think  that  our  business  as 
Scotsmen  lies  only  with  Scotland,  and  that  we 
should  have  been  content  to  keep  Scotland  clear  of 
the  Hanoverians  and  the  union,  call  over  King 
James  to  reign  in  Holyrood,  and  let  England  have 
whom  she  likes  for  king.  In  fact  they  want  to  see 
Scotland  a  separate  kingdom  once  more.  Nay; 
never  mind  your  arguments  to  me;  I  need  none. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  147 

But  to  come  to  what  I  was  saying — these  men  then, 
say  that  they  marched  into  England  out  of  compas- 
sion, to  help  the  English  to  throw  off  a  foreign  yoke. 
And  now  they  say  that  they  have  come  so  far  and 
find  that  they  were  mistaken :  the  people  of  Eng- 
land are  evidently  quite  satisfied  with  the  Hanove- 
rian or  else  Avhy  don't  they  rise  ?" 

"  And  so  they  wish  to  turn  back  ? "  queried  Pen- 
graig  grimly. 
'  They  do." 

"  And  what  does  the  Prince  say  to  it  ? " 

"  Nothing  as  yet,  and  for  the  best  of  all  reasons; 
he  has  never  heard  of  it.  But  we'll  all  hear  it  now, 
and  that  before  to-morrow  night  or  I'm  much  mis- 
taken. Then,  too,  we'll  hear  what  the  Prince  thinks 
of  it!  " — the  twinkle  came  back  into  the  speaker's 
eye  as  he  uttered  the  last  sentence. 

"  Humph!  but  as  long  as  Lord  George  Murray 
keeps  right  I  suppose  we  are  safe  enough,"  returned 
Pengraig  thoughtfully.  "  The  few  malcontents  can 
hardly  draw  off  in  the  midst  of  England." 

"Aye,  but  are  you  so  sure  of  Lord  George?" 
pursued  Elcho  drily.  "  I  tell  you,  he  is  the  General, 
it  is  true,  and  he  is  ambitious;  which  is  more:  but 
the  feeling  I  have  spoken  of  is  far  wider  spread 
than  you  guess,  and  I  have  already  noticed  the 


148         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

leaders  of  it  plucking  him  by  the  sleeve  and  whis- 
pering with  bent  brows  into  his  ear.  Besides  which 
you  must  not  forget  that  the  Duke  of  Perth  is  one  of 
the  keenest  for  this  capture  of  London,  and  you  can 
guess  what  that  will  weigh  with  Lord  George — the 
same  lord  who  has  already  put  the  whole  expedition 
in  jeopardy  in  order  to  oust  His  Grace  of  Perth  from 
the  leadership.  Nay,  nay,  it  is  Murray  himself  I 
fear  in  the  next  council;  for  it's  in  the  very  next 
council  the  thing  will  crop  up ;  please  God  that 
council  do  not  end  in  fighting  among  ourselves." 

"  God  grant  we  escape  that  at  least!  "  answered 
the  other  fervently.  "  And  now  it  all  depends  upon 
our  hearing  from  the  Welsh.  Ah,  if  we  had  only 
moved  that  way  from  Congleton  !  " 

He  pondered  in  silence  for  a  little  while  until : 
"  But  I  know  that  Wales  is  up :  "  said  he  to  Elcho 
warmly:  "  there  was  no  slackness  amongst  any  of 
them.  I  know  that  the  moment  Sir  Watkin  got  my 
message  he  would  give  the  word :  and  that  message 
went  by  a  trusty  hand.  No  :  no  :  my  faith  is  strong 
as  ever:  we  shall  hear  to-day  and — I'll  double  the 
bet  with  you,"  ended  he  cheerily. 

"Come  away;  come  away;  I'll  take  it  with 
pleasure,"  responded  the  other.  "  It  does  one  good 
to  ride  beside  a  hopeful  heart  after  a  spell  of  these 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          149 

wrinkled  brows  and  sidelong  glances.  And  we'll 
have  a  cup  together  at  the  first  inn  for  the  relief 
of  it." 

The  cheeriness  thus  begotten  lasted  the  two  even 
till  they  reached  Derby ;  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  no 
news  of  the  Welsh  had  yet  arrived.  "  I've  lost  the 
bet,"  said  Pengraig  as  they  rode  in ;  but  I'll  pay 
with  little  sorrow ;  for  I  still  stick  to  it  that  we'll 
hear  news  to-day — the  day  is  not  done  yet  by  many 
a  long  hour.  No,  no,"  and  turning  to  a  group  of 
citizens  in  the  market  place — "  You  did  not  expect 
to  see  us  so  early,"  cried  he  briskly  as  he  passed. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

PENGRAIG  paid  his  debt  at  the  best  inn  in  the 
town  and  while  the  dinner  was  in  progress  he  had 
ample  opportunity  of  noting  how  dark  and  heavy 
seemed  the  spirits  of  the  company  round  the  board. 
It  did  not  need  the  sardonic  innuendoes  of  Lord 
Elcho,  as  he  sat  beside  him,  to  remind  him  of  the 
danger  impending.  "  And  the  day  wears  out 
towards  the  midnight,"  Elcho  would  repeat  as  a  tag 
upon  every  speech. 

But  over  the  wine  a  word  came  flashing  in  which 
broke  athwart  the  gloom  of  the  company  as  the 
lightning  splits  a  storm  cloud  and  brings  forth  its 
voice  in  thunder. 

"  So !  the  Welsh  are  not  risen  at  all !  " 

Pengraig  stood  instant  to  his  feet ;  his  face  as 
grey  as  ashes :  his  hand  upon  his  hilt.  '  Who  says 
so  ? "  he  demanded  in  a  ringing  voice. 

'Your  own  man:  the  one  you  call  lolyn,"  an- 
swered a  chief  near  the  door,  and  before  Pengraig 
could  answer,  in  upon  them  stalked  none  other  than 
the  lad  himself. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          151 

"  Did  you  say  this  thing  ?"  demanded  Pengraig 
of  him  sternly. 

"  Nay,  I  am  no  liar,"  answered  lolyn,  glancing 
round  contemptuously:"  I  said  nothing.  The  only 
thing  that  was  said  at  all  was  when  Weir  confessed 
that  Chapel  had  waylaid  and  wounded  Presgwyn 
before  he  reached  Wynstay. " 

"  Is  not  that  the  same  thing  ?  "  retorted  another 
of  the  company.  "  Sir  Watkin  was  to  wait  for  the 
letters  Presgwyn  carried.  If  Presgwyn  were 
wounded  then  the  letters  did  not  arrive  and  so — 

"  And  so  you  jump  to  an  ill  conclusion, — like  a 
woman.  And  like  a  nagging  woman  if  you've 
preached  misfortune,  then  you'd  sooner  be  hung 
than  misfortune  should  miss.  What !  has  this 
army  stolen  down  back  streets  or  sneaked  by 
hedge  and  bridle-path  to  avoid  being  seen  ?  The 
noise  of  its  march  has  reached  Wynstay  before  this, 
I'll  uphold.  Besides,  you  have  not  stopped  to  hear 
the  full  of  what  Weir  said,"  ended  lolyn. 

'Then  let   us  have  the  tale,"  said  Pengraig  at 
once. 

Without  further  pressing  the  lad  told  the  story  of 
his  interview  with  the  dying  dragoon  and  the  inn- 
keeper, as  also  his  own  bootless  chase  after  Chapel. 
"After  I  missed  him  that  first  night,"  continued 


152         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

he;  "I  got  a  fresh  horse  and  followed  next  day  till 
I  was  certain  that  he  had  reached  Stafford  safely. 
Then  I  thought  that  the  only  way  left  to  me  was  to 
come  back  and  find  this  Weir,  and  make  him  repeat 
every  word  that  Chapel  had  said.  I  have  just  come 
from  listening  to  his  confession  and  some  of  these 
people  must  have  heard  and  carried  the  tale — and 
twisted  it  as  they  came,  to  boot." 

"And  his  confession  ?"  demanded  Pengraig. 

"  Just  the  same  as  the  innkeeper's;  no  more,  no 
less,  saving  that  John  Chapel  was  sent  by  his  mas- 
ter, Gwgan  Maddox,"  and  here  lolyn  looked  the 
other  square  into  the  eyes. 

Pengraig  understood  the  look.  '  Yea,  you  were 
right,  lolyn ;  but,  God  is  my  witness,  I  thought  I 
was  doing  right  when  I  refused  to  listen  to  you  that 
night  in  the  hall  of  Wynstay. " 

"  I  knew  you  thought  you  were  right;  you  need 
no  witness  to  that.  If  I  had  dreamed  it  had  been 
otherwise  then  I  would  have  put  the  bidogan  through 
the  pair  of  them :  master  and  man  together,  and 
taken  the  consequence,  let  his  Pencenedl  cry  what 
cry  he  would." 

"And  now ?" 

"  And  now,  having  chased  the  man  and  missed 
him  for  the  present,  I  am  going  to  hunt  the  master. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  A R NO  153 

Him  I  shall  find  with  Wynstay,  I  hope,  and  wher- 
ever I  find  him  there  I  will  leave  him,  if  it  were 
under  the  skirt  of  the  King's  own  coat — and  I  care 
not  which  King  of  the  two  it  be  " — for  the  Prince 
had  just  wrested  Weir  from  his  clutches. 

"  But  you  will  give  Wynstay  himself  all  informa- 
tion as  to  the  Prince  and  his  army,"  commanded 
Pengraig. 

"  I  will  sir,"  replied  lolyn.  "  And  now  if  you 
will  assist  me  to  another  horse  I  will  meanwhile 
dine  in  some  sort,  for  I  have  had  little  food  since  I 
left  Congleton." 

It  took  several  hours  before  a  horse  could  be  pur- 
chased, though  both  Pengraig  and  Lord  Elcho  per- 
sistently followed  every  rumour  which  even  remotely 
promised  one  for  sale.  '  You  see,"  quoth  Elcho 
drily,  "  no  man  likes  to  part  with  his  horse  to-night ; 
for  it  seems  to  be  in  the  air  that  he  may  want  it  to- 
morrow, and  silver  in  the  pouch  is  but  a  poor  sub- 
stitute for  the  iron  on  four  hoofs  when  a  man  is 
travelling  in  a  hurry  for  the  benefit  of  his  health." 

But  a  fair  seeming  beast  was  found  at  last,  and 
after  a  few  final  instructions  lolyn  splashed  away 
into  the  night  for  Ashbourne,  heading  so  far  north 
before  striking  west  in  order  to  avoid  any  chance  of 
falling  in  with  Cumberland's  patrols. 


154         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

When  the  last  sound  of  him  was  lost,  Lord  Elcho 
turned  to  Pengraig.  "  I  think  yon  lad  will  win 
through.  He's  an  awkward  customer  to  meet  alone, 
for  all  his  elegant  figure  and  his  handsome  face. 
Dod !  man !  he  was  keen  to  put  that  bidog  of  his 
through  the  ribs  of  any  chief  or  lord  about  the 
board  with  us,  when  he  stepped  in  on  the  heel  of 
the  dinner.  And  you've  heard  of  the  difficulty  the 
Prince  himself  had  to  get  Weir  safe  out  from  under 
his  hand !  Well,  this  is  nine  of  the  clock  of  a  black 
night  and  he'll  lose  little  time  in  getting  his  hand 
on  the  throttle  of  this  Maddox — but,  if  Wynstay 
and  his  forces  come  on  wings,  they  would  still  come 
too  late;  of  that  I'm  wearily  sure." 

"Why?"  demanded  Pengraig  startled  at  the 
tone  of  despondent  conviction  with  which  the  other 
ended. 

"  I  fear  me  that  Lord  George  has  cast  in  his  lot 
with  them  that  draw  back,  and  you  know  there  is  a 
council  called — at  his  suggestion — for  the  morning 
of  to-morrow." 

"  Then  I  must  make  some  move  at  once  to  coun- 
tervail him,"  returned  Pengraig  promptly.  "  He  put 
the  Duke  of  Perth  out  of  the  command  did  he  not  ?  " 
'  You  have  most  surely  hit  the  only  hope  we 
have,"  replied  the  other.  "  This  would  be  a  good 


FOR    THE   WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          155 

point  for  Perth  to  renew  the  tug  between  them.  If 
he  won  it  would  leave  Murray  in  command  while  at 
the  same  time  over-ruling  him." 

'  Yes,  but  does  it  not  at  the  same  time  make  a 
personal  matter  of  it,  and  thus  provoke  the  rest  to 
take  sides  as  before — But  it  is  the  only  course  we 
can  shape  now,  so  we  must  even  take  the  risk," 
said  Pengraig. 

"  And  I  see  you  have  also  gauged  exactly  the 
little  value  there  is  in  our  only  hope,"  pursued 
Elcho  grimly. 

"  That  may  all  be;  but,  little  or  much,  we  must 
do  the  best  we  can."  With  which  last  dictum  the 
two  wended  back  to  their  lodgings. 

At  the  council  next  day  it  was  evident  from  the 
first  that  Lord  George  had  fully  come  to  a  decision 
and  was  prepared  to  push  his  point  to  the  farthest. 
He  was  not  one  of  those  who  thought  that  Scotland 
might  again  be  set  up  as  a  separate  kingdom  under 
the  Stuarts,  and  that  England  should  be  left  to  fight 
out  its  own  salvation.  He  well  understood  that 
there  can  be  only  one  crown  and  one  king  in  Britain ; 
but  he  hoped  by  drawing  the  King's  armies  after 
him  into  Scotland  to  leave  England  empty  of  troops 
and  open  to  the  landing  of  that  army  which  France 
had  so  often  promised  to  send  to  the  assistance  of 


156         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

the  Stuart  cause.  Again  he  was  far  too  able  a  gen- 
eral not  to  give  full  weight  to  all  the  dangers  of  their 
present  position,  while  at  the  same  time  he  was  not 
sufficiently  romantic  to  give  full  weight  to  all  its 
advantages.  Only  a  Montrose  could  have  perfectly 
filled  the  post  of  general  to  the  Jacobite  army  that 
day,  and  it  is  no  discredit  to  Lord  George  to  say 
that  he  was  not  a  Montrose. 

And  yet  he  might  well  have  paused  as  he  looked 
at  the  radiant  face  of  the  gallant  and  debonair 
young  Prince — for  of  all  the  men  about  him  that 
morning  Charles  Edward  was  probably  the  only  one 
who  came  to  that  council  absolutely  unsuspicious  of 
what  was  about  to  follow.  Thus  he  was  as  one 
lost  in  amazement  when  Lord  George  opened  the 
point  that  was  in  his  mind. 

Speaking  with  a  firm,  grave  tone  the  latter  repre- 
sented that  the  Scots  had  marched  into  England, 
depending  either  upon  a  landing  of  the  French  to 
their  aid,  or  a  general  uprising  of  the  English ;  neither 
of  which  had  occurred.  Their  present  small  army 
was  totally  inadequate  to  face  the  three  which  "  the 
Elector"  had  in  the  field  against  them.  Even 
should  they  succeed  in  gaining  a  victory  over  one  of 
these  three  armies,  still  their  own  unavoidable  losses 
thereby  would  undo  them,  and  it  was  far  better 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          157 

that  they  should   go  back  and  join  their  friends  in 
Scotland  and  live  and  die  with  them. 

The  amazement  of  the  Prince  had  given  way  to 
anger  before  these  words  were  half  finished,  and  he 
listened  to  the  later  arguments  with  a  fiery  heat 
of  impatience  which  broke  into  white  wrath  as  lord 
after  lord  and  chief  after  chief  agreed  with  what  had 
been  said — as  they  had  decided  to  do  before  ever  the 
council  met. 

'  Then,  gentlemen!  "  cried  Charles  Edward  pas- 
sionately: "  I  see  you  are  all  minded  to  betray  me. 
But  rather  than  go  back  I  would  wish  to  be  twenty 
feet  under  ground  !  " 

Till  now  the  Duke  of  Perth  had  not  spoken,  but 
at  this  indignant  outburst  he  opened  on  the  line 
Pengraig  had  prompted.  He  saw  at  once  that  there 
was  no  hope  of  bringing  the  malcontents  to  a  re- 
sumption of  the  advance  upon  London  and  so  he 
put  the  middle  course. 

"  If  I  might  suggest  it  to  your  Royal  Highness," 
said  he,  bowing;  "  and  to  you,  gentlemen,  there  is 
another  plan  yet  remaining.  I  think  it  were  well  if  / 
we  should  march  to  Wales  and  join  Sir  Watkin  Wyn 
and  the  Duke  of  Beaufort.  We  should  have  men 
enough  then  to  meet  any  army,  besides  having  our 
rear  secure." 


158         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE.  OF  ARNO 

"  And  I,  too,  think  the  same,"  joined  Sir  William 
Gordon  heartily.  "  Besides,  it  were  a  rank  betrayal 
now  to  retreat  and  leave  the  Welsh  alone  in  the 
lurch  for  the  Elector  to  glut  his  vengeance  upon." 

Lord  George  was  adamant.  '  We  have  done  all 
we  could.  There  is  nothing  now  but  to  retreat," 
replied  he  darkly. 

A  savage  wonder  filled  Pengraig  as  he  listened  to 
that  last  word.  A  chill  devil  of  determination  took 
him  and  he  cut  scornfully  in  upon  the  speaker.  "  Re- 
treat !  away  with  the  word  or  away  with  the  cause ! 
Retreat  is  ruin !  So  far  you  have  succeeded  by  the 
very  audacity  of  your  doings.  Men  stand  aston- 
ished at  the  resolute  conduct  of  this  march,  and 
rumour  helps  you  by  exaggeration  till  London 
counts  you  for  forty  thousand  instead  of  four.  Once 
turn  ;  once  halt ;  once  seem  irresolute  and  undecided, 
and  rumour  will  magnify  that,  too,  just  as  swiftly 
and  as  grossly.  From  demigods  and  heroes  you 
fall  at  one  fell  swoop  to  riff-raff  and  broken  men ; 
ruined  lords;  prison  'scaping  spendthrifts:  a  mere 
rabble  of  ragged  thieves  and  beggarmen.  On  your 
forward  march  armies  broke  and  fled  at  the  sight  of 
you,  but  once  you  go  back,  once  you  retreat,  the  very 
parish  beadles  will  turn  out,  and  each  poor  pompous 
knave,  secure  in  gold-laced  band  and  wand  of  petty 


FOR    THE    WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         159 

office,  will  come  to  hale  you  off  to  prison  as  mere 
tattered  footpads  and  starveling  peace-breakers. 
Will  you  from  what  you  are,  the  terror  of  the 
usurper,  the  admiration  of  the  world,  the  hope  of  all 
leal  men,  become, — what  you  will  most  assuredly 
become  if  you  retreat, — the  derision  of  Hanover; 
the  scorn  of  the  mob;  the  victims  of  block  and  gal- 
lows; of  outlaw  hunt  and  merciless  attainder  ?" 

He  paused  and  looked  round,  his  whole  soul  flam- 
ing from  his  eyes  in  proud  challenge,  but  no  man 
answered  him  till  the  Prince  spoke. 

'  Yea,  gentlemen!  listen  to  our  counsellor;  every 
word  he  speaks  is  true.  Bethink  you  of  the  savage 
butchery  which  followed  the  '15,  and  turn  from  a 
project  which  would  bring  a  double  measure  of  such 
horrors  upon  us  all !  " 

Just  for  one  instant  the  atmosphere  was  slack 
with  irresolute  emotion.  Each  waited  for  his  neigh- 
bour to  speak.  Then,  softly  through  the  fateful 
silence,  but  all  too  fatally  loud,  the  Duke  of  Perth, 
raising  his  hand  in  nervous  tension,  struck  the  chased 
hilt  of  his  sword. 

Lord  George  started;  their  eyes  met;  ambition 
roused  in  him  again  and  he  deemed  that  he  read 
triumph  in  his  rival's  look.  The  moment  was  over; 
the  charm  was  broken  and  the  chance  was  gone. 


l6o         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

He  straightened   up   and  his  voice  came  hard  and 
cold  as  he  spoke  again. 

"  It  is  because  we  do  bethink  us  of  the  '15  and  its 
cruel  consequences  that  we  decide.  We  believe 
that  we  shall  best  prevent  any  repetition  of  that 
time  by  marching  now  to  secure  Scotland  for  your 
Royal  Highness." 

"  You  cannot!  it  is  impossible,"  returned  Charles 
Edward.  "  Britain  is  not  wide  enough  for  two  kings. 
One  must  be  lord  of  all:  one  crown  must  bind  its 
countries  in  its  one  circle." 

"  But  we  cannot  win  England  too,"  persisted 
Lord  George. 

'Then  you  cannot  secure  Scotland  either, "  re- 
turned Pengraig.  "  Scotland  is  lost  or  won  in  Eng- 
land and  England  in  London.  More,  how  can  you 
reach  Scotland  again,  save  as  the  flying  remnant  of 
a  defeated  army  ?  Wade  on  one  side  of  you  ;  Cum- 
berland on  the  other;  and  your  retreat  fetching  out 
every  man  of  the  militia  to  oppose  you  with  new 
courage,  born  of  your  own  fears.  You  would  be 
surrounded  by  overwhelming  hosts,  and  while  on 
your  advance  you  could  have  swept  such  numbers 
to  the  winds,  yet  retreat  would  then  have  sapped 
the  courage  of  you  all  and  you  would  be  like  sheep 
in  the  shambles  to  the  Hanoverian  knife." 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO          l6l 

"The  counsellor  is  right  again,"  took  up  the 
Prince.  "  How  can  we  hope  to  retreat,  with  Wade 
on  one  flank  and  Cumberland  on  the  other  ? " 

"  But  I  am  ready  to  warrant  you  against  them 
both,"  persisted  Lord  George.  "  I  will  command 
the  rear  guard  myself  and  bring  you  safe  to  Scot- 
land once  more.  And  if  I  fail  in  making  good  my 
words,  why,  you  have  my  head;  take  it." 

"  I  cannot  retreat!  I  will  not  retreat,"  reiterated 
the  Prince. 

"  No,"  assented  the  Duke  of  Perth.  "  Let  us 
rather,  as  I  say,  march  straight  into  Wales  and 
treble  our  numbers  thrice  in  as  many  days." 

"  Moreover,"  put  in  Sir  William  Gordon,  "  that 
country  will  just  suit  our  Highlanders,  being  all 
mountains  and  wastes  like  their  own,  and  we  should 
be  at  home  there,  with  all  England  before  us  to 
harry  as  the  Welsh  did  in  the  old  days." 

"  And  not  alone  to  harry  England,"  took  up  Pen- 
graig,  "  but  to  march  to  another  Bosworth.  For 
the  Welsh  would  not  let  you  tarry  there,  but  in  their 
thousands  would  clamour  to  be  led  to  London. 
Sir,"  cried  the  speaker,  turning  to  the  Prince;  "  if 
you  but  go  to  Wales,  then  you  shall  straightway 
resume  your  advance  upon  your  capital  with  all  the 
manhood  of  that  country  at  your  back." 


1 62         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

"  And  all  the  English  will  rise  to  join  me  then,  as 
well,"  added  Charles  Edward. 

"It  is  very  strange,"  answered  Lord  George 
coldly:  "  if  there  be  so  many  to  rise  for  your  Royal 
Highness — I  say  it  is  very  odd  that  they  should 
never  have  sent  you  money,  intelligence  or  the  least 
advice  what  to  do.  If  your  Royal  Highness  can  pro- 
duce a  single  letter  from  any  person  of  note  inviting 
us  forward  then  we  will  march  at  once.  But  at  pres- 
ent we  have  had  no  sign  from  any  such  an  one  and 
not  one  gentleman  has  joined  us." 

This  last  loose  sentence  touched  more  than  one 
of  those  present  to  the  quick.  Towneley  lifted  a 
foot  to  move,  but  Pengraig  was  quicker  as  he  strode 
acroes  till  he  stood  in  front  of  Murray,  his  face 
dark  with  fury,  his  voice  vibrating  with  passion. 
'  You  speak  of  gentlemen.  By  one  stream  I  draw 
my  blood  from  the  Conqueror's  own  kin  and  by 
another,  through  Ivor  Hael,  I  draw  from  a  source 
that  was  ancient  before  ever  the  Bastard  was  born. 
Do  you  draw  yours  yet  more  remotely  that  you  so 
lightly  me?  Answer!  with  your  blade  if  you 
like!" 

But  the  Duke  of  Perth  on  the  one  side  and  the 
Lochiel  on  the  other  stood  swiftly  between  them  to 
prevent  the  quarrel.  "  It  was  not  your  own  descent 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          163 

or  standing  which  Lord  George  spoke  of,"  urged 
Lochiel  to  Pengraig.  '  He  knows  as  much  as  any 
of  us,  also,  how  much  you  have  helped  us.  What 
he  meant  was  that  no  other  gentleman  had  followed 
your  example." 

"  Of  course  I  did:  I  do  not  see  what  other  mean- 
ing could  attach  to  my  words,"  followed  Lord 
George  angrily,  his  hand  upon  his  hilt. 

But  none  of  the  council  could  afford  to  allow 
duelling  amongst  its  members  and  one  and  all  cried 
out  against  the  madness  of  the  moment. 

In  the  attempt  to  settle  the  disturbance,  there- 
fore, they  were  so  earnest  that  the  point  at  issue 
was  forgotten,  and  the  Prince  seized  the  opportunity 
of  dismissing  the  council  till  another  day,  hoping 
that  meanwhile  the  fatal  proposition  to  retreat  might 
be  abandoned. 

Thus  it  came  about  that  when  Pengraig  had  so 
far  cooled  as  to  bethink  him  of  once  more  patiently 
explaining,  to  the  full  council,  the  situation  of 
Wales  with  regard  to  themselves,  it  was  too  late. 
The  council  was  dissolved  and  the  members  already 
beginning  to  depart,  most  of  them  with  preoccupied 
looks  and  full  of  gloomy  forebodings. 

"  But  I  scotched  the  project  of  retreat  for  this 
council,  at  any  rate,"  said  Pengraig  to  Lord  Elcho 


1 64         FOR   THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

as  they  passed  into  the  street.  "  Moreover  I  hope 
to  get  word  of  Wynstay  before  the  next  meet- 
ing is  called,  and  whether  I  do  or  not  I'll  stand 
out  against  this  suicidal  retreat,  if  I  have  to  chal- 
lenge the  whole  council  collectively." 

When  the  two  parted,  Lord  Elcho  looked  after 
the  other  as  he  went,  "  Aye,  aye,"  quoth  he  to 
himself.  '  This  retreat  is  suicide  and  I've  no 
doubt  but  you  would  challenge  the  whole  council. 
But  I  doubt  you'll  be  present  at  the  next  that's 
called.  You  are  over  warm  for  my  Lord  George  Mur- 
ray and  I'm  thinking  he'll  see  to  your  being  absent. 
There's  a  council  within  our  council — as  I'm  afraid 
we'll  all  of  us  find  out  ere  long.  But  in  the  mean- 
time there's  a  drop  of  rare  wine  at  the  inn  where  I 
quarter  and  the  bill  will  be  paid  like  the  rest — with 
the  word  to  return  to-morrow." 


CHAPTER   XV 

WHEN  lolyn  left  Derby  it  was  too  late  for  him  to 
get  further  than  Ashbourne  that  night.  Accordingly, 
though  he  started  with  the  first  streak  of  next  day's 
dawn,  yet  the  distance  was  so  great ;  the  elongated 
ditches,  mistermed  roads,  so  bad ;  the  misdirections 
so  many  and  the  winter  daylight  so  short,  that  one- 
horse  lasted  him  little  more  than  twenty  miles. 

"  And  I  am  not  more  than  a  third  of  the  way 
along,"  said  he  to  himself,  as  the  horse  sagged 
slower  at  every  stride.  "A  done  up  horse;  the 
day  half  gone,  and  all  broad  Britain  hanging  on 
my  speed — though  that  will  be  little  comfort  to 
the  first  man  I  meet  when  I  stick  a  pistol  in  his 
ear  till  we  swap  horses. 

'  Talk  of  the  Devil  and  he's  sure  to  appear,"  he 
went  on,  as  a  mounted  figure  came  round  the  bend 
in  front.  '  Here  comes  my  man;  a  Whig  I'll  war- 
rant by  the  lean  look  of  him ;  but  better  mounted 
than  any  scurvy  Whig  of  them  all  should  be." 

Whig  or  Tory,  the  traveller  was  equally  furious 
at  the  forced  exchange  of  steeds,  but  the  gleam  of 


1 66         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

the  uncanny  eyes  that  looked  along  the  levelled 
pistol  cowed  him  even  more  than  the  weapon  itself, 
and  his  report  to  the  nearest  Justice  was  that  he  had 
been  robbed  by  a  madman. 

At  forty  miles  a  horse  tethered  to  the  gate  of  a 
house  of  good  appearance  furnished  the  next  ex- 
change. '  They  must  put  it  down  to  the  war,"  said 
lolyn  grimly  as  he  pricked  away. 

Finally,  and  after  dark,  Bryn-y-pys  remounted 
him  with  the  second  best  horse  in  the  stable,  and 
the  last  short  stretch  to  Wynstay  was  at  a  round 
trot. 

"Never  a  finger  have  they  moved;  never  a 
length  have  they  spurred,"  quoth  the  lad  to  him- 
self savagely  as  he  crossed  the  Dee ;  all  the  long 
brooding  of  the  road  breaking  into  words  now  that 
he  had  found  for  certain  that  Wynstay  still  waited. 

"  And  we  at  Derby  thought  that  all  the  world 
knew  all  that  we  were  doing,  while  here  at  Erbistoc 
the  folk  are  but  this  evening  full  of  the  news  that 
we  had  just  reached  Manchester  and  would  be 
marching  on  to  Macclesfield  before  many  days  were 
over — the  same  Macclesfield  we  left  four  days  ago. 
And  such  is  news  without  a  special  messenger.  But 
all  the  better  for  that  in  one  way,  since  Maddox  will 
suspect  nothing  till  it  is  too  late  for  him  to  slip  me. " 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  1 67 

Then  as  the  thought  of  Maddox  came  up  again, 
the  hot  blood  surged  in  fury  through  his  veins  and 
he  forgot  the  weakness  in  his  body,  numb  and  ach- 
ing though  he  was  from  days  of  endurance.  As  the 
lust  for  vengeance  on  the  traitor  rose  higher  in  his 
heart  he  peered  forth  out  of  half-closed  lids,  with  a 
face  all  smiles,  as  though  he  feared  that  even  in  the 
dark  some  one  might  otherwise  detect  the  maniac 
glare  of  the  one,  or  the  convulsive  working  of  the 
other. 

Higher  and  higher,  furlong  by  furlong,  roused  the 
passion  in  his  soul,  till  as  he  entered  the  park  of 
Wynstay  his  horse  was  at  the  gallop  and  he  flew 
through  the  shadows  like  some  weird  nightmare 
rider.  He  left  the  reins  to  hang  upon  the  withers 
as  he  leaped  down  and  pushed  in  past  the  porter  at 
the  door,  with  a  short  word  of  "  News  from  the 
Prince!  " 

In  the  great  hall  the  cloth  was  drawn  and  the 
wine  was  free  on  the  board  as  he  stalked  within. 
Caked  with  mud  from  head  to  foot ;  swordless  and 
all  disordered,  he  halted  under  the  lights  where  he 
could  scan  the  sitters.  Black  fury  blazed  from  his 
eyes  and  twitched  his  lips  as  he  cast  about,  seeking) 
the  form  of  Maddox. 

But  Maddox  had  just  left  the  hall  and  from  his 


1 68         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

chamber  window  had  happened  to  see  the  lad  dis- 
mount, in  the  light  of  the  torch  by  which  the  un- 
der porter  had  examined  the  newcomer.  A  sudden 
dread  had  seized  him  and  he  had  stolen  fascinated 
down,  till  he  stood  just  outside  the  open  door  of 
the  hall  in  time  to  hear  the  words  that  rang  out  and 
made  him  sick  with  terror.  "  Lord  of  Wynstay! 
lord  that  sits  birling  the  wine  while  his  prince 
marches  unhelped  to  battle !  Where  is  the  traitor 
Maddox  ?" 

At  the  first  fierce  word  Sir  Watkin  started  up  in 
anger,  but  when  he  heard  the  "  traitor  "  he  checked 
both  himself  and  those  who  would  have  started  for- 
ward to  seize  the  intruder.  "  How  do  you  know 
that  he  is  a  traitor  ?  "  demanded  he. 

"  I  captured  his  servant  at  Congleton  ;  the  servant 
whom  he  sent  to  waylay  and  murder  Presgwyn 
that  word  might  never  come  to  raise  Wynstay  till 
too  late  for  aught  but  the  block." 

The  flush  of  anger  on  the  chief's  face  darkened 
to  cold  wrath  as  he  spoke  again.  "  So,  gentlemen. 
Now  we  know  why  we  have  been  so  long  without 
the  word  we  waited  for.  There  was  a  traitor  with 
us.  Seize  him  then!  Up  all  and  hunt  him!  His 
wretched  carcass  shall  at  least  make  all  possible 
atonement !  " 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          169 

The  command  came  too  late.  No  sooner  had 
Maddox  heard  of  the  capture  of  Chapel  than  he 
slipped  out  past  the  unsuspecting  porter  to  where 
lolyn's  horse  was  just  recovering  his  wind.  All  in 
one  instant  he  seized  the  bridle,  leaped  to  the  sad- 
dle, reined  round,  and  was  gone;  swallowed  up  in 
the  shadows  of  the  most  densely  wooded  park  in 
Britain,  and  thus  pursuit  was  hopeless  from  the 
first. 

But  while  the  grooms  and  gentlemen  were  mount- 
ing to  follow,  lolyn  in  his  rage  had  started  forth 
afoot,  plunging  through  bush  and  brake  like  one 
possessed.  '  He  has  fled  to  Coed  Cynan,"  he 
panted  as  he  went:  "  gone  to  claim  sanctuary  with 
his  Pencenedl.  But  I  will  get  him  if  all  his  tribe 
were  mustered  in  between." 

Presently  he  heard  the  crash  of  twigs  and 
branches,  with  the  thud  of  chasing  hoofs,  and  in 
another  moment  one  of  the  pursuers  had  mistaken 
him  for  Maddox  and  was  charging  down  upon  him, 
pistol  in  hand,  with  a  peremptory  "  Stand !  " 

There  was  no  time  for  explanations;  he  had 
scarcely  room  to  slip  behind  a  tree  as  the  pistol 
flashed  fire  and  the  ball  went  whistling  through  the 
thicket ;  but  while  the  rider  pulled  up  to  change  his 
course  lolyn  darted  out  upon  him.  Seizing  him  by 


1 70         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

the  foot  he  dexterously  unhorsed  him,  and  almost 
before  the  man  struck  the  sward  hac}  succeeded  him 
in  the  saddle  and  was  gone,  without  troubling  about 
the  second  pistol  shot  which  the  dismounted  man 
discharged  after  him  from  where  he  lay. 

The  rest  of  the  pursuers,  in  various  parts  of  the 
park,  soon  recognized  the  hopelessness  of  the  chase 
and  drew  rein  to  return  to  the  hall,  yet  lolyn,  pos- 
sessed as  he  was  by  a  demon  of  hate,  still  persisted 
in  his  notion  of  reaching  Coed  Cynan  by  the  open 
road,  convinced  that  his  man  had  fled  thither.  But 
if  the  roads  of  England  had  been  bad  in  the  day- 
light, the  bridle  paths  of  Wales  were  almost  impass- 
able in  the  darkness,  so  that  it  was  long  after  day- 
break when  he  finally  came  in  sight  of  the  hall  of 
the  Head  of  Maddox's  kindred.  Here,  checking, 
he  was  soon  cunningly  in  conversation  with  one  of 
the  men  of  the  house,  from  whom  he  learnt  to  his 
fiery  chagrin  that  Maddox  had  not  only  not  ar- 
rived, but  that  he  was  not  likely  ever  to  do  so. 

"  For  why  ?  "  demanded  the  lad  instantly. 

"  Because  when  the  company  dispersed  from 
Wynstay,  each  chief  and  gentleman  to  his  own 
house  to  make  ready,  Coed  Cynan  pressed  his  Lon- 
don kinsman  to  ride  here  with  him,"  answered  the 
man.  "  But  that  fop  hum'd  and  haw'd  and  made 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO  I /I 

excuse  till  the  chief  named  him  smartly  with  a 
round  oath  and  so  left  him  in  high  anger;  for  he  had 
neither  word  nor  sword  to  answer  the  insult  with." 
lolyn  knew  the  man  for  one  of  those  who  had 
been  at  Wynstay  on  the  night  of  the  declaration 
and  therefore  felt  no  doubt  as  to  the  truth  of  what 
he  heard.  There  was  nothing  for  it,  then,  but 
to  return  at  once  and  see  if  the  trail  could  be  picked 
up  from  some  point  in  Wynstay  Park ;  for  the  points 
of  egress  from  it  were  naturally  so  few  that  this 
could  probably  be  done.  With  a  tired  "  Good-day 
then"  he  turned  rein  upon  his  own  tracks;  his 
baffled  eagerness  burning  sullenly  in  his  eyes  as  he 
pushed  away  again.  Jogging  along,  it  came  upon 
him  like  a  flash  that  he  had  spurred  away  from 
Wynstay  without  delivering  the  message  and  news 
which  Pengraig  had  charged  him  with.  '  Yea, 
yea,"  said  he  to  himself  with  a  grin  of  bitter  self- 
satire  :  "  I  am  a  rare  one  to  be  trusted  with  a  matter 
of  weight.  I  think  that  I  must  really  be  getting 
as  mad  as  Maddox  taunts  me  with  being.  What  a 
senseless  fool  I  was  not  to  have  halted  long  enough 
to  tell  Sir  Watkin  what  he  needed  to  know.  But 
no;  in  my  blundering  rage  I  must  needs  go  corpse- 
candling  off  by  wern  and  waen  *  as  if  Coed  Cynan 

*  =  by  marsh  and  moor. 


172         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

Hall  could  have  mounted  and  fled  too.  Aye,  this 
pretty  Gwgan  seems  to  win  at  every  turn ;  one  mes- 
senger he  murders  and  another  he  draws  off  with 
rage,  and  both  ways  keeps  the  country  from  rising. 
Nevertheless,  nevertheless —  here  the  mutterer 
drew  out  the  bidogan  into  the  wintry  sun,  gazing 
upon  it  fondly  while  he  softly  made  slow  stabs 
through  the  empty  air. 

Riding  a  jaded  horse,  it  was  nightfall  ere  he  once 
more  dismounted  at  Wynstay  and  again  entered  the 
hall.  Every  eye  was  turned  on  him  at  once,  but  he 
looked  only  at  Sir  Watkin,  who  sat  returning  the 
survey  with  stern  look  and  manner. 

"  Well  ?  "  demanded  the  chief  austerely  at  length. 

"  I  am  come —  "  began  lolyn.  Then  suddenly  he 
broke  off.  "  I  am  like  the  wilful  hound  that  breaks 
away  from  the  pack  on  a  trail  of  his  own  stubborn 
choosing.  And  I  am  come  crawling  back  like  the 
same  hound  to  his  kennel,  expecting  the  huntsman's 
rating.  I  am  the  rare  messenger  Pengraig  trusted 
to  bring  you  the  word  that  was  to  start  your  rising; 
instead  of  which  I  must  needs  go  hunting  Maddox. " 

At  the  repentant  simile,  so  apt  in  the  ear  of  a 
Master  of  Foxhounds,  Sir  Watkin  softened  in- 
stantly. "Nay  lad;  excuses  cannot  mend  it.  Let 
it  lie,  and  tell  us  now  what  was  the  news  you 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          173 

brought.  First,  however,  let  me  tell  you  that,  when 
the  night  passed  and  you  did  not  return  we  were 
forced  to  guess  at  what  should  be  done.  This 
morning,  therefore,  Lord  Barrymore  and  myself 
sent  a  letter  to  the  Prince,  by  the  hand  of  Dr. 
Barry.  But  as  we  knew  nothing  of  the  whereabouts 
of  His  Royal  Highness,  we  caught  at  your  reference 
to  Congleton,  and  our  messenger  goes  there  first. 
Now  let  us  hear  you." 

Briefly  and  coherently  lolyn  ran  over  the  history 
of  the  march  from  Preston  till  he  came  to  the  cap- 
ture and  escape  of  Chapel,  and  as  he  gave  the  inn- 
keeper's story  the  faces  darkened  round  the  board; 
hands  closed  on  hilts  and  teeth  were  clenched  in 
grim  desire  for  vengeance.  Then  as  the  tale  of  the 
chase  unfolded,  exclamations  of  fierce  disappoint- 
ment broke  like  a  chorus  from  the  listeners  as  the 
lad  told  how  all  unawares  he  had  flushed  the  spy 
only  to  lose  him.  So,  too,  when  he  told  of  Weir's 
corroboration  at  Derby,  Sir  Watkin  was  fain  to 
speak. 

I  quite  understand  now,  how  you  came  to  fol- 
low so  far  after  Maddox  last  night.  Gad !  how  I 
should  like  to  hang  him  !  " 

But  when  the  tale  went  on  to  tell  of  the  fears  of 
Pengraig  that  the  coming  council  would  decide  upon 


1/4         FOR   THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

retreat,  the  Chief  sprang  to  his   feet  with  a  great 
oath. 

"Never,"  cried  he:  "no  retreat!  Thank  God 
we  sent  Barry  this  morning.  That  will  stop  their 
retreating  for  the  moment  till  I  can  reach  them 
with  a  force  that  will  carry  them  on. 

"  And  now  we  must  move  at  once.  You  know 
each  one  his  part.  Ride  now  and  ride  readily!  "  he 
cried  to  his  kinsmen  round  the  board. 

The  command  was  like  a  torch  to  powder  and 
within  ten  minutes  the  park  was  eerie  once  again 
with  ghostly  riders,  pricking,  some  for  the  meads  by 
sinuous  Severn ;  some  for  the  upper  reaches  of  the 
Dee.  Others  headed  for  the  open  swells  of  lal;* 
for  the  sylvan  sweeps  of  Clwyd  and  the  wilder 
beauties  of  the  Conwy;  speeding  on,  and  speeding 
ever,  till  the  greyest  cape  of  lonely  Lleyn  and  the 
farthest  field  of  sad  pastured  Tal  y  bolion  heard  the 
grim  summons  to  war.  From  Mon  to  Maelor  the 
cry  was  "  Rise  for  the  White  Rose  of  Arno,"  for 
Shackerly  of  Gwersyllt  was  spurring  to  rouse  the 
gallant  gentlemen  of  the  Cycle  and  bid  them  out 
and  go. 

'  Tell  every  man  of  the  Cycle,"  cried  Sir  Watkin 

*  lal,  in  English  written  Yale.  Elihu  Yale  was  of  the  family  of 
the  chiefs  of  this  country. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          1 75 

as  he  stood  at  Shackerly's  stirrup  ere  the  spurs 
went  home  at  parting — "  tell  every  man  of  them 
not  to  come  here  to  the  general  muster,  but  to 
mount  with  the  first  streak  of  day  and  push  at  top 
speed  for  Derby.  I  want  them  to  be  for  an  earnest 
of  what  is  to  follow  when  all  Wales  is  risen." 

Then,  when  the  last  hoof  stroke  had  died  into  the 
sough  of  the  night  wind  in  the  park,  the  lord  of 
Wynstay  turned  and  went  within  again  to  question 
and  requestion  lolyn,  and  get  from  him  every  detail 
of  the  Prince's  forces  and  surroundings. 

"  Aye!  lad !  "  said  he  at  the  finish,  "  the  Prince 
shall  see  all  his  desire  again,  when  once  our  armies 
foregather." 


CHAPTER    XVI 

BUT  though  at  Wynstay  such  high  hopes  were 
dominant,  Pengraig  himself  was  drinking  deep  of 
more  than  the  bitterness  of  death.  After  the  first 
council  broke  up  in  such  disorder  he  had  ridden 
away  westward,  in  hope  of  lighting  upon  some  news 
or  rumour  telling  of  forces  from  Wales  marching  to 
join  the  Prince,  and  his  pathetic  eagerness  had 
carried  him  so  far  that  he  did  not  get  back  to  Derby 
till  all  the  rest  of  the  army  was  wrapped  in  sleep. 
Thus  he  learnt  nothing  of  that  second  and  more 
secret  council  whose  decision  was  so  pregnant  with 
the  fate  of  the  nation. 

For  while  Sir  Watkin  sat,  dreaming  dreams  of 
splendid  triumph,  there  had  already  been  enacted 
the  first  sad  scene  of  one  of  the  saddest  tragedies  in 
history :  a  scene  which  few  men  can  read  or  think 
of  without  a  pang  of  regret  for  the  pitiful  failure  of 
what  had  seemed  heroic  endeavour.  On  that  morn- 
ing, the  morning  of  the  fatal  Friday,  being  the 
sixth  day  of  December  1745,  the  troops  of  Charles 
Edward's  army,  mustering  with  high  hope  of  near 


FOR    THE    WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         1/7 

battle  against  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  were  coun- 
termarched and  led  about  on  the  first  step  of  that 
retreat  the  end  of  which  was  fire  and  sword ;  ruth- 
less extermination,  foul  massacre  of  wounded  men; 
exile  and  starvation.  Yea,  sadder  yet  and  even 
worst  of  all,  there  was  to  be  ultimate  and  hopeless 
wreck,  despised  and  unhonoured  death  for  him  who 
yesterday  was  the  idol  of  a  million  hearts,  the 
inspirer  of  a  thousand  songs:  "  The  dear  White 
Rose  of  Arno,"  "  Bonnie  Prince  Charlie." 

Pengraig  mounted  in  the  grey  of  dawn,  with  a 
heart  which,  while  still  hot  to  avenge  what  he  con- 
sidered the  insult  of  yesterday,  was  yet  full  of 
strong  comfort  in  the  idea  that  the  quarrel  betwixt 
himself  and  Lord  George  had  at  least  put  a  decided 
end  to  all  thoughts  of  retreat  for  the  present.  Like 
the  common  soldiers  and  all  the  less  important  com- 
manders, he  understood  that  the  day's  march  was 
to  end  with  a  battle,  and  so  took  his  accustomed 
place  beside  the  Prince  in  happy  ignorance,  until, 
as  the  party  halted  to  let  the  Camerons  pass,  it 
dawned  upon  him  in  the  broadening  light  that  they 
were  moving  in  retreat. 

For  a  moment  he  sat  as  if  turned  to  stone,  all 
the  colour  fading  from  his  face  as  it  fades  from  the 
face  of  the  dead,  till  even  his  lips  seemed  livid  and 


178         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

his  eyes  sunk  in  his  head.  He  turned  to  the  Prince 
beside  him  with  a  world  of  dumb  appealing  in  figure 
and  in  face,  as  if  imploring  him  to  dispel  the  awful 
impression  which  chilled  his  soul. 

Charles  had  been  gloomy  and  sullen  from  first 
putting  his  foot  into  the  stirrup,  and  now,  as  he  saw 
the  cruel  knowledge  eat  into  the  heart  of  his  "coun- 
sellor," he  made  a  savage  gesture  of  impotent  wrath 
before  he  broke  into  a  scornful  half  laugh.  "  You 
see —  '  his  voice  broke  for  a  moment  and  his  eye 
moistened  ere  he  could  frame  the  words  coming 
next — "  you  see  that  they  have  carried  their  point." 

Pengraig's  answer  came  forth  huskily  and  with 
dry  catches  as  he  spoke.  ' '  And — you — are  going 
back ! ' ' 

'Yea,  we  are  afraid,"  returned  Charles  Edward 
in  bitter  jest  as  he  put  his  horse  into  motion  again. 

The  other  said  no  more,  but  he  kept  his  place  im- 
movable while  the  rest  passed  on,  sitting  as  still  in 
the  saddle  as  if  the  hand  of  Death  had  already  mo- 
tioned him  to  tarry.  The  Prince  and  his  staff 
moved  out  of  sight,  but  still  Pengraig  did  not  stir 
till  the  clash  of  the  Duke  of  Perth's  regiment 
roused  him  in  passing. 

Then  slowly  rousing,  like  one  recovering  from  a 
trance,  he  looked  up.  The  sight  of  that  body  of 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  179 

gallant  men,  marching  in  obedience  to  such  an 
order,  stung  him  to  the  quick.  Next  he  caught 
the  figure  of  young  Richard  Vaughan,  hope  and 
heir  of  Courtfield,  riding  listlessly  by,  and  a  wave 
of  impotent  fury  surged  through  all  his  veins  as 
he  thought  of  the  ruin  to  come. 

Putting    spurs    to    his    horse    he    dashed    across. 

Vaughan!  "  he  cried  with  a  bitter  curse:  "  they 
are  going  back  to  Scotland !  " 

But  Vaughan  had  known  from  yesterday,  and  his 
own  anger  was  by  this  time  exhausted.  '  Yes," 
replied  he  with  a  patient  smile;  "  but  wherever  they 
go  I  am  determined,  now  that  I  have  joined  them, 
to  go  with  them  to  the  end." 

Savage  and  sharp  came  the  other's  answer,  "  I 
had  rather  be  hanged  in  Wales  than  starved  in 
Scotland." 

Just  then,  with  his  saturnine  smile,  Lord  Elcho 
rode  past.  "  And  is  that  the  best  word  you  have 
for  this  fine  new  jaunt  of  ours?"  said  he,  darkly 
sarcastic.  '  Why,  man,  the  very  Whigs  in  Scotland 
had  no  such  bitter  word  for  us  when  first  the  old 
jaunt  was  new;  the  jaunt  that  ended  at  the  council 
yestere'en." 

Pengraig  looked  at  him  with  a  softening  eye,  for 
he  heard  the  undertone  of  fierce  pain  in  the  voice. 


180         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

"  We  little  thought  of  this,  Elcho,  when  first  we 
foregathered  over  the  recruiting  at  Preston." 

The  other  choked  for  an  instant.  "  Aye,  it's  a 
bitter  day  to-day. "  Then  with  an  effort,  "Well! 
let's  hope  it  may  end  on  the  heather  and  not  on  an 
oaken  block." 

I  wish  it  may  for  you,"  said  Pengraig  gently. 
"  Pray  heaven  it  may  for  you;  but,  for  me,  I  was 
foretold  at  starting — my  own  wife  saw  it,  saw  it  all ; 
gallows  and  faggot  and  quartering  knife.  I  tried  to 
shake  it  from  her  mind  then,  but  now — God's  will 
be  done!  " 

The  last  words  came  as  sad  as  such  a  prayer 
could  come  from  a  heart  as  hot  as  his. 

Lord  Elcho  stretched  his  hand  out  in  a -sudden 
impulse  to  grasp  that  of  the  other.  "  Nay,  coun- 
sellor; are  you  fey  indeed?"  said  he. 

Vaughan,  too,  sat  upright.  "Is  it  so  in  truth, 
Pengraig  ?"  spoke  he.  '  You  never  told  us  that." 
'Why  should  I?"  answered  Pengraig  with  a 
smile  that  lit  his  face  like  autumn  sunset.  '  Why 
should  I  say  anything  which  might  have  cast  you 
down  ?" 

No' more  words  were  said;  the  three  put  their 
steeds  into  motion  again,  and  side  by  side,  mile 
after  mile,  they  rode  along  in  silence :  even  the 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          l8l 

angry  speeches  of  the  common  soldiers,  who  in  the 
mortification  of  what  they  considered  this  betrayal 
of  their  hopes  muttered  angrily  through  the  whole 
day's  march,  failed  to  provoke  a  single  comment 
from  either  of  them.  Only  when  at  length  they 
topped  the  rise  whence  the  last  glimpse  of  Derby 
could  be  had,  the  high  serenity  of  Pengraig  broke 
down  for  an  instant  as  he  burst  forth  in  despairing 
anguish:  "Woe  for  us!  we  that  are  defeated  not 
on  the  field  but  in  the  council  chamber.  The 
White  Rose  is  broken  forever !  Far,  far  worse  than 
the  quartering  knife  is  such  an  hour  as  this !  Yea, 
the  gallows  will  but  be  a  contemptuous  mockery 
hereafter,  for  we  taste  ten  thousand  times  its  agony 
in  this,  the  death  of  a  Cause !  " 

The  little  army  halted  at  Ashbourne  that  night ; 
every  man  sullen  and  distrustful  of  his  neighbour, 
for  the  rank  and  file  saw  plainly  that  the  retreat 
was  as  bitter  to  the  Prince  as  to  themselves.  Pen- 
graig, brooding  upon  a  watchful  pallet  over  some 
means  of  arresting  the  fatal  movement,  rose  at  last 
in  the  small  hours  of  the  morning  and  sought  the 
sleeping  place  of  Charles  Edward.  The  sentry  on 
the  chamber  door  did  not  hesitate  to  admit  him, 
and  presently  the  Prince  was  sitting  up  listening  to 
the  scheme  the  other  was  unfolding. 


1 82         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

"  If  I  go  now  to  Wynstay  and  can  manage  to  send 
a  body  of  three  hundred  horse,  mostly  gentlemen, 
to  overtake  you  at  Manchester,  as  a  token  of  the  rest 
being  ready  in  Wales ;  then  will  your  Royal  High- 
ness undertake  to  countermand  this  retreat  and 
march  into  Wales  instead  ? " 

"  I  cannot  countermand  it  with  my  own  word," 
answered  Charles  Edward  sadly.  "If  I  could, 
then  I  should  have  done  so  at  Derby.  But  if  such 
an  accession  of  strength  does  come  to  me  at  Man- 
chester, I  can  at  least  insist  upon  remaining  there 
till  Wales  is  all  mustered.  After  that  I  have  no 
doubt  but  that  my  Scots  would  readily  and  cheer- 
fully march  to  join  you,  or  both  armies  could  con- 
verge upon  that  of  the  usurper." 

"  In  that  case,  sir,  I  will  start  at  once.  And  may 
God  prosper  your  Royal  Highness." 

Here  he  broke  off,  kissed  the  Prince's  hand,  and 
was  hurriedly  gone. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

WHEN  Gwgan  Maddox  dashed  away  from  Wyn- 
stay  he  carried  a  black  load  in  his  breast.  Only 
that  same  afternoon  he  had  waylaid  Mari  on  her 
solitary  walk  across  the  lawn  and  along  the  edge  of 
the  wood,  and  within  the  first  dozen  words  had 
succeeded  in  rousing  her  to  contemptuous  scorn  of 
him. 

I  am  very  sorry  for  you,"  said  he  to  her  condol- 
ingly.      "It  is  a  pity  that  Mr.   Meredith  has  failed 

so  in  his  task.     We  hear " 

'What?"  demanded  Mari  imperiously  as  he 
paused  upon  the  word. 

'  That  the  Prince  has  reached  Manchester — so 
that  Meredith  should  have  been  with  us  long  ago  if 
he  really  intended  it." 

Mari  stoppled  short  and  turned  on  him.  Her 
lips  parted  and  for  one  moment  it  seemed  as  if  she 
were  about  to  overwhelm  him  with  a  torrent  of 
indignation.  Then  she  checked  herself.  "  Ah;  but 
I  forgot;  it  is  the  brave  Mr.  Maddox  who  is  so 
sorry  for  me.  We  do  not  all  know  Gwgan  Maddox, 


1 84         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

however,  and  so  I  would  warn  him  how  he  speaks 
such  words  aloud  here  at  Wynstay,  for  there 
are  Merediths  within  half  an  hour's  ride  who 
might  not  understand  that  the  gorgeous  Gwgan 
is  not  worth  even  the  contempt  of  honest  gentle- 
men." 

'Then  you  refuse  me?"  demanded  he  angrily. 
"  Do  you  mean  that  you  have  finally  thrown  me 
over  for  this  Meredith  fellow  ?  " — he  was  half  chok- 
ing with  cheap  wrath. 

"Thrown  you  over,"  repeated  Mari  disdainfully. 
4  Then  because  I  was  barely  civil  to  you,  as  being 
my  father's  ward,  you  presume  to  say  that  there 
was  something  more  betwixt  us.  But,  there,  good 
sir,  you  even  do  yourself  injustice  when  you  s-peak  as 
though  you  had  ever  cared  for  me.  I  know  you 
better.  You  did  not  even  reckon  that  trying  after 
me  as  worthy  to  rank  amongst  the  rest  of  your 
Society  amours  until  you  found  that  Mr.  Meredith 
was  received  into  my  father's  house  to  study. 
Then  your  vanity  took  huff  at  the  bare  possibili- 
ties of  the  situation,  and  your  dress  became  more 
wonderful  and  your  manner  more  ridiculous  every 
day,  as  you  strutted  about,  cocking  your  coat-skirt 
with  the  sword  you  never  dared  draw.  No,  sir,  only 
your  vanity  is  hurt — and  let  me  advise  you  to  return 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  185 

to  those  dear  Countesses  of  whom  you  were  forever 
vapouring.  Let  them  console  you." 

Before  his  passion  could  compass  a  reply  she  had 
started  back  across  the  lawn,  as  not  desiring  to  hold 
further  converse  with  such  a  one.  So  much  beside 
himself  with  anger  was  he,  however,  that  he  sprang 
after  her  and  planted  himself  to  bar  her  progress. 

"  Stop,  you  jade!  stop,  or  - 

Unperturbed:  scornful  only,  "  Out  of  my  way!  " 
she  cried.  "Or  do  you  wish  to  have  the  kennel- 
men  come  with  their  dog  whips  and  teach  the  mod- 
ish Mr.  Maddox  his  manners  ?  " 

Maddox  looked  over  his  shoulder,  sobered  for  a 
flash  by  a  fear  lest  some  of  the  gentlemen  might  be 
watching  the  scene  from  the  windows  of  the  hall. 
She  took  advantage  of  the  moment  to  move  on  and 
in  his  new  fear  he  let  her  continue  unmolested.  In- 
stead, he  plunged  into  the  wood  again,  and  there, 
biting  his  nails  as  he  marched  feverishly  to  and  fro, 
pondered  and  cursed  over  some  impossible  means 
of  revenging  himself  on  Mari. 

It  was  this  rebuff  which  had  sent  him  sulking 
to  his  chamber  that  evening,  thereby  saving  his 
wretched  life  from  lolyn. 

Now  however,  as  he  rode  into  England,  his  brain 
had  got  a  new  shock  to  combat,  in  the  capture  of 


1 86         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

his  servant  Chapel.  Man's  last  words  had  finally 
shattered  his  favourite  scheme  of  security;  which 
had  been  to  marry  her  before  his  forgeries  had  come 
to  light ;  and  next  the  capture  of  Chapel  seemed 
1  to  have  destroyed  his  alternative  scheme  of  skilful 
murder  and  subsequent  betrayal  of  the  Jacobites. 
He  did  not  know  as  yet  that  Chapel  had  escaped, 
nor  did  he  know  that  the  Jacobites  had  already 
betrayed  themselves,  in  the  council  ended  no  longer 
ago  than  the  evening  of  this  very  day. 

'  Well,  I  must  find  out  where  I  stand  first,"  said 
he  to  himself  as  he  spattered  along  in  the  darkness. 
"  Congleton  is  where  they  captured  Chapel — I  never 
thought  that  villain  would  have  allowed  himself  to 
be  taken  alive — and  I  must  get  as  near  to  that  place 
as  I  can  so  as  to  find  out  exactly  what  happened 
and  how  much  the  cur  confessed." 

He  could  not  go  far  this  night  however  and  so 
he  stopped  at  an  inn  in  the  first  town  where  he 
deemed  himself  beyond  the  reach  of  pursuit.  Here 
next  morning  he  purchased  jack  boots,  together  with 
the  other  essentials  of  a  riding  outfit — freely  curs- 
ing, in  the  latest  and  most  modish  terms,  the  make, 
cut,  fashion  and  seller  of  each  separate  article  as  he 
bought  it — before  pursuing  his  journey.  By  mid- 
day he  learnt  that  the  Jacobite  army  had  marched 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          187 

away  from  Congleton  on  the  road  to  Derby  and  in 
the  evening  he  pushed  cautiously  into  the  former 
town,  there  to  stay  over  night  to  pursue  enquiries. 

But  Congleton  remembered  more  than  any  spy 
could  have  confessed  in  a  week,  and  Weir  had  been 
multiplied  into  many  spies,  so  that  Maddox  felt  his 
hopes  sink  lower  every  moment  as  he  listened  to  a 
throng  of  tales,  all  told  at  once,  each  giving  a  more 
wildly  improbable  narrative  than  the  other — as  it 
seemed  to  him,  catching  a  bit  of  this  tale  or  that  in 
a  dazed  attempt  to  follow  all. 

There  was  no  part  of  any  one  of  them  which  he 
could  possibly  assign  to  Chapel — or  indeed  to  any 
sane  human  being — but  the  whole  pointed  to  a 
confession  of  some  sort,  and  the  fear  of  what  that 
confession  had  been  kept  him  awake  through  the 
greater  part  of  the  night,  in  spite  of  the  utter  weari- 
ness of  his  body.  So,  too,  it  forced  him  early  into  the 
saddle  next  morning,  for  now  he  had  no  advantage 
to  gain  by  delaying  in  seeking  the  headquarters  of 
the  Duke  of  Cumberland  and  there  finding  an 
early  market  for  what  information  he  could  give 
as  to  the  Welsh  Jacobites — to  betray  his  own  kith 
and  kin,  in  fact,  in  return  for  his  own  previously 
threatened  safety. 

The  first   stage  of  his  new  journey  was  to  New- 


1 88        FOR    THE   WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

castle  under- Lyne,  and  thus  his  way  lay  through  the 
village  where  the  spies  had  been  captured.  Here, 
pursuing  his  enquiries,  he  heard  of  Chapel's  escape 
and  the  starting  of  lolyn  in  pursuit.  Learning  of 
the  widow's  share  in  that  business,  he  got  down  in 
front  of  her  poor  thatched  abode,  boiling  with  mean 
anger  and  cowardly  fury  against  her.  Bursting  open 
the  door  with  his  foot  he  strode  inside. 

'  Where  are  you  ;  you  old  beldame  ?     You  Jacob- 
ite hag  ?  "  he  shouted. 

But  there  was  some  one  there  quite  ready  to  take 
him  up.  Though  the  first  hurt  dragoon  was  dead ; 
having  died  within  half  an  hour  of  lolyn's  leaving  him; 
yet  another  had  been  brought  in  to  take  his  place 
under  the  gentle  old  widow's  care.  One  of  the  two 
from  "  John  Webster's";  a  corporal,  shot  through 
the  leg,  was  now  lying  in  the  bed,  his  teeth  shut 
tight  upon  his  tongue,  like  a  lid  upon  a  cauldron, 
to  keep  down  the  fume  of  fantastic  swearing  with 
which  his  mind  was  bubbling  over  as  the  pain  of 
his  wound  racked  and  pincered  his  nerves.  He  was 
practising  rare  self-denial  and  foregoing  the  dear 
relief  of  profanity  lest  he  should  shock  his  nurse. 
Thus  the  entrance  of  the  blustering  fop  of  a  Maddox 
was  as  a  godsend  to  him,  and  he  opened  upon  the 
intruder  with  a  good  round  flood  of  particular  oaths 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  189 

and  cherished  niceties  of  profanity,  which  only  a 
trooper  of  that  date  could  have  compassed.  They 
rolled  upon  his  tongue,  grateful  as  the  trickle  of 
sweet  waters  to  the  parched  palate  of  the  desert 
wanderer,  and  Maddox  fell  back  half  a  pace,  gasp- 
ing through  lips  parted  in  sheer  astonishment  at 
the  bear  which  he  had  so  unexpectedly  found  denned 
with  the  hare. 

Then  a  heavy  jack-boot,  spur  and  all,  struck  him 
in  the  neck,  and  the  click  of  a  carbine  sounded  from 
the  bed.  Turning,  he  made  one  leap  to  the  door 
and  another  to  the  saddle,  and  like  a  flash  was 
pricking  away  down  the  road,  with  the  insult 
sticking  in  his  gullet,  for  fear  worse  should  befall 
him. 

He  was  soon  to  be  consoled  however,  for  news 
of  yesterday's  retreat  from  Derby  was  already  flying 
far  and  wide,  and  he  was  scarcely  three  miles  beyond 
Newcastle,  on  the  road  to  Stone,  before  he  got  a 
circumstantial  account  of  it  which  raised  his  hopes 
and  brought  a  dozen  plans  surging  up  in  his  mind  at 
once.  Now  that  the  rebels  had  turned  he  felt,  like 
everyone  else,  that  the  movement  was  doomed. 
Being  doomed  it  carried  doom  to  all  its  most  prom- 
inent participators,  and  Pengraig  was  too  notorious 
as  a  fervent  Jacobite  ever  to  receive  pardon  now 


1 90        FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

that  he  had  actually  been  in  arms.  Whoever  else 
found  mercy,  the  "  poetical  lawyer"  *  was  sure  of 
sharp  shrift. 

Once  outlawed  or  executed  Pengraig  could  no 
more  trouble  Gwgan  Maddox  and  so  the  said  Gwgan 
opened  his  clammy  lips  and  eased  his  breast  of  a 
huge  sigh  of  relief — he  was  now  free  of  danger  from 
the  forgery  at  least  and  so  was  at  liberty  to  work 
for  revenge.  Thus  as  he  rode  his  breast  was  a 
seething  cauldron,  wherein  savage  hatred  of  Mere- 
dith, of  lolyn,  and  of  Pengraig,  mingled  with  a  fe- 
rocious desire  to  wreak  untold  tortures  upon  the 
scornful  soul  of  Mari.  As  he  dwelt  upon  what  .he 
would  do  to  the  latter  his  face  flushed  darkly,  till  at 
last  he  raised  his  eyes  and  cast  a  quick  glance  round, 
as  if  he  feared  any  one  should  by  any  possibility 
guess  the  black  thoughts  in  his  mind — for  even 
Gwgan  Maddox  could  choke  over  them. 

Plotting  and  scheming  thus  he  presently  reached 
the  little  town  of  Stone,  where  he  was  agreeably 
surprised  to  find  a  small  party  of  horse  just  dis- 
mounting in  the  street.  Riding  closer  he  recog- 
nized the  cornet  in  command  and  straightway  fell 
to  eliciting  information. 

"  Ha!  Kingdon!     I  understand  you  have  chased 

*  This  was  Walpole's  description  of  him. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  19 1 

back  this  beggarly  rabble  of  Scotch  and  Lancashire 
riffraff.     Is  it  true  ?" 

"It  is  true  that  the  Pretender  has  gone  north 
again  from  Derby,"  responded  the  cornet  drily; 
"  but  we  do  not  know  yet  where  they  are  intending 
for.  Perhaps  for  Wales :  I  am  here  to  find  out  if  I 
can.  They  quartered  in  Ashbourne  last  night." 

'  That  is  not  on  the  road  to  Wales  from  Derby," 
replied  Maddox,  pluming  his  confidence. 

The  cornet's  tone  had  been  none  of  the  most 
cordial,  but  now  he  added  a  whisper  which  made 
the  other  pale  for  a  moment.  "  It  is  understood 
that  you  yourself  went  to  Wales  to  join  the  Jacob- 
ites, and  it  looks  marvellously  as  if  you  had  been 
on  the  way  to  Derby,  but,  finding  yourself  too  late, 
had  headed  South  instead,  like  a  prudent  man." 

'Then  you  had  better  understand  differently!" 
blustered  Maddox  in  seeming  righteous  indigna- 
tion ;  and  as  if  not  desiring  to  keep  the  thing  quiet 
by  answering  in  a  whisper  also.  His  virtue  cried  to 
the  world  for  examination  as  he  continued:  "  You 
will  find  that  my  servant,  Chapel,  has  already  been 
with  your  general,  and  that  the  boot  is  on  the 
other  leg!" 

"  So  that  fellow  Chapel  is  your  servant,  eh  ?  "  re- 
turned the  cornet,  staring  steadily  at  the  other  over 


192         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

his  horse's  neck.  '  Then,  you  have  come  out  as  a 
spy  at  last!  Well,  well,  I,  at  least,  ought  not  to  be 
surprised  at  that,  considering  our  last  meeting. 
Still  I've  no  official  notice  to  welcome  you  as  a  spy, 
but  on  the  contrary,  have  been  notified  that  you 
had  gone  to  Wales  to  join  the  rebels.  All  the  same 
there  are  pleasanter  ways  of  riding  than  with  the 
feet  tied  under  the  horse's  girth,  so  that  if  you  still 
insist  that  you  are  a  spy  and  a  traitor:  why — d'ye 
understand  ? " 

Maddox  did  understand  but  he  was  too  cowardly 
to  take  the  hint  and  ride  quietly  on.  He  tried  to 
carry  it  off  with  a  high  front.  '  You  will  be  glad, 
to-morrow,  that  you  did  not  tie  me.  You  will  know 
then  what  His  Grace  the  Duke  of  Cumberland 
thinks  of  me." 

The  last  words  came  over  his  shoulder  as  he  rode 
away. 

"  Ah,"  replied  the  other  imperturbably,  "  you 
will  find  the  Duke  near  Coventry  and  while  you  are 
speaking  with  him,  kindly  put  in  a  word  for  me. 
Since  you  plucked  me  so  clean  at  the  tables  I 
haven't  anything  left  to  buy  my  step  with,  and  yet 
I  don't  want  to  live  and  die  a  cornet." 

Maddox  affected  not  to  hear  this  parting  shot 
but  continued  to  move  off  at  a  walk.  His  direction 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         193 

was  still  South,  but  just  through  the  town  he  turned 
left,  as  though  to  find  some  new  line  of  road  by 
which  to  seek  headquarters.  He  did  not  care  to 
have  Cornet  Kingdon  called  upon  for  any  report  of 
his  entrance  within  the  outposts. 

Meanwhile  the  dragoons  were  making  the  most 
of  their  bread  and  cheese  and  ale,  swearing  genially 
over  the  refreshment,  and  watching  the  horses  toss- 
ing the  half  feed  in  the  nosebags ;  for  both  men  and 
beasts  required  the  rest. 

But  hardly  was  the  last  bite  between  the  teeth 
than  Maddox  came  galloping  back  at  top  speed. 

"  Now,  sir,"  cried  he  in  triumph — triumph  which 
yet  left  a  sickly  colour  in  his  face — "  mount  your 
party  quickly  and  you  shall  see  whether  I  ever  had 
any  part  with  the  wretched  rebels.  Within  two 
miles  of  here,  one  of  the  principal  of  all  these  trai- 
tors can  be  taken  prisoner  if  you  do  but  move  at 
once." 

"  I  had  rather  you  said  that  their  principal  troop 
of  horse  could  be  charged,"  growled  the  cornet, 
as  he  gave  the  order  to  mount  one  half  of  his 
party. 

"Are  you  not  going  to  mount  all  your  men  ?" 
expostulated  Maddox. 

"  D n  it!  man.  A  dozen  dragoons  should 

13 


194         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO 

take  the  Devil  prisoner,  let  alone  one  poor  British 
gentleman." 

Maddox  ventured  no  more  till  the  party  were 
mounted. 

"  Now  then  ?"  growled  the  cornet  to  him,  as  he 
pulled  down  his  tunic. 

"  In  that  direction,"  began  Maddox,  pointing 
across  country.  '  You  will  go — 

"  Nay,  you  will  go,"  broke  in  the  other  grimly. 
"  And  you  will  go  with  a  pistol  at  your  ear,  too. 
I  am  not  going  to  be  sent  into  any  trap,  my  fine 
spy.  So,  march,  my  gentleman,  and  we'll  follow. 
Now." 

"  But,"  began  Maddox,  with  a  face  all  piteous 
betwixt  shame  and  fear. 

"But — nothing,"  returned  the  other  inexorably. 
"  If  you  will  meddle  with  men  of  action,  you  must 
take  the  consequences.  Once  more,  March!  " 

'  Very  well,  sir,  I'll  guide  you,"  retorted  Maddox 
in  pettish  desperation.  '  But  the  Duke  shall  hear 
of  this " 

"  He  shall,  without  a  doubt,"  put  in  the  other 
with  the  same  exasperating  coolness.  '  The  regu- 
lations provide  for  it — I  have  to  make  a  report  of 
all  these  sort  of  things." 

The  rest  of  the  party  caught  the  tone  from  their 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          195 

leader,  sulkily  cursing  things  in  general  as  they  rode, 
so  that  Maddox  tasted  yet  more  fully  the  delights 
of  his  position.  Then  he  grew  feebly  vicious,  and, 
goaded  into  what  he  mistook  for  determination, 
'  This  way  ! "  cried  he  at  a  turn  of  the  road. 
"  Faster!  " 

"  Faster  be  hanged !  "  retorted  the  cornet.  "  We 
have  other  work  for  our  horses  than  playing  parish 
constables  and  apprehending  vagrants." 

The  other  did  not  deem  it  wise  to  reply  and 
presently  he  pulled  up  to  speak  to  a  countryman  in 
the  road.  "  Still  there  ?"  demanded  he. 

'  Yes  sir.  Never  come  an  inch  this  road.  But 
where's  the  guinea  ?  "  cried  he  as  Maddox  was  mov- 
ing off  again. 

"Damn  your  impudence!"  was  all  the  other's 
answer. 

"  Hold!  "  cried  the  cornet.  Then  turning  to  the 
countryman:  "Did  this  man  promise  you  any- 
thing ?  "  he  asked. 

He  said  if  I  watched  that  lane  yonder  he'd  give 
me  a  guinea  when  he  came  back." 

"  Come,  Mr.  Maddox,  pay  as  you  go,"  said  the 
officer,  grimly  jocose.  '  You  can  always  get  more 
at  the  tables,  you  know." 

Maddox    paid ;    his  hand    so  shaking    the   while 


196         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

that  he  fumbled  the  money  and  dropped  some  silver 
as  well  as  the  guinea. 

Keep  it,"  said  Kingdon  laconically  to  the  man, 
who  picked  it  up  with  a  dry  smile.  "  Now  sir," 
went  on  the  cornet  to  Maddox.  "  March! " 

"  But  we  are  here;  there  is  the  lane,"  protested 
the  victim. 

"Aw!"  returned  the  officer  ironically.  "How 
truly  intelligent !  Now  I  come  to  think  of  it  we 
are  here!  But  we  did  not  come  to  apprehend  a 
lane,  did  we  ?  It  would  be  awkward  to  tie  that 
on  a  horse  and  send  it  to  the  Duke  at  Meriden 
Moor." 

'  Well,    in   the   house   then,"    retorted   the  bad- 
gered Maddox. 

"  Which  house  ?     Show  me." 

For  answer  Maddox  led  the  way  a  little  farther  on 
to  the  entering  of  a  lane  at  the  other  end  of  which 
a  cluster  of  thatches  indicated  the  presence  of  a 
farmstead.  'There,"  said  he:  "your  man  is  in 
that  house.  Let  him  slip  and  you  lose  your  com- 
mission." 

A  hot  word  was  on  the  cornet's  lips  to  reply,  but 
the  grizzled  old  sergeant  brought  his  horse  violently 
against  his  officer's  knee.  Kingdon  looked  around 
sharply  but  the  sergeant's  face  was  so  especially 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          197 

wooden  that  he  read  its  meaning  at  a  glance  and 
so  took  the  advice  and  bit  his  tongue. 

The  absence  of  retort  emboldened  Maddox  and 
he  lifted  his  rein,  saying;  "  Well,  Kingdon,  I  leave 
you  to  your  duty;  and  now  I'll  just  continue  on  to 
the  Duke." 

Before  he  could  even  put  his  horse  about,  how- 
ever, a  nod  from  the  cornet  instructed  the  dragoon 
on  the  other  side  of  him,  and  the  muzzle  of  a  mus- 
ket came  cold  under  his  ear,  almost  causing  him  to 
drop  out  of  the  saddle  from  fright  and  shock. 

'  Take  charge  of  him,  Durley,"  said  the  cornet. 
"If  he  attempts  to  escape,  shoot  him.  Hartly  will 
stay  with  you  to  help  you." 

Then  the  party  turned  and  took  the  lane  for  the 
house. 

A  few  minutes  of  mute  suspense  and  then  Mad- 
dox heard  the  swift  reports  of  a  couple  of  pistols. 
A  burst  of  confused  noises  followed  and  then  some 
fifteen  minutes  intervened — double  torture  to  the 
dastard  as  he  fidgeted  between  the  silent  pair  of 
immovable  dragoons. 

Then  the  party  reappeared,  Kingdon  with  one 
arm  in  a  sling,  and  one  of  the  men  with  his  head 
bandaged.  Halting  in  front  of  Maddox  the  cornet 
turned  to  the  prisoner  beside  him.  With  a  grave 


198        FOR    THE    WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

bow,  "  This,  sir,"  said  he  in  a  voice  vibrant  with 
scathing  scorn,  "  this  is  the  most  honourable  gentle- 
man who  betrayed  you." 

And   "Ah!"  said  Pengraig — and  never  another 
word  did  he  utter  on  that  occasion. 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

ONLY  once  on  all  the  long  way  to  the  Duke  of 
Cumberland's  headquarters  did  the  prisoner  break 
the  silence  which  had  held  him  since  the  recognition 
of  his  betrayer.  They  had  marched  for  hours  when 
suddenly  he  turned  to  Kingdon  as  if  his  anguish 
were  no  longer  to  be  borne. 

'  Tell  me,"  he  broke  out:  "  Why  is  it  ?  What  is 
there  in  our  cause  that  it  should  seem  thus  to  be 
cursed  ?  that  one  poor  pitiful  dastard  like  Maddox 
should  have  power  to  ruin  the  endeavours  of  thou- 
sands— aye,  of  nations !  Did  AVC  sin,  or  did  our 
fathers  sin  ?  that  all  the  fire  of  our  hearts  should 
yet  issue  only  in  .impotence  ?  Why  is  it  ?" 

Pardon  me,  sir,  but  I  fear  you  are  too  hard  for 
me,"  returned  Kingdon  with  respect.  "  I  am  but  a 
poor  cornet  of  dragoons  and  a  plain  man — but  I 
have  ever  noticed  that  a  spy  is  a  very  potent  instru- 
ment when  things  are  aloft  and  moving." 

"  Ah,  you  do  not  understand,"  exclaimed  Pen- 
graig  despairingly.  "  I  mean,  why  did  High  God 


200         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

permit — but  I  weary  you  and  pray  you  pardon  me. 
Tell  me,  sir,  is  your  wound  any  easier  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  is  nothing  sir,  I  assure  you.  In  truth, 
if  it  were  not  for  the  sling  I  should  forget  it  com- 
pletely." 

Pengraig  understood  and  a  faint  sad  smile  stole 
out  for  an  instant  through  the  grief  in  his  eyes.  "  I 
thank  you,  sir,  and  indeed  I  am  sorry  for  that 
shot,"  said  he  with  a  winning  concern  in  his  voice 
and  manner. 

For  it  had  happened  that  when  the  party  came 
upon  him  at  the  farmstead  he  had  been  in  the  stable, 
girthing  up  to  go,  and  it  was  his  first  pistol  which 
wounded  the  cornet.  His  second  had  dropped  the 
man  whom  they  afterwards  left  behind  at  Stone  with 
a  bandaged  head,  and  then,  before  he  could  draw 
sword  in  that  narrow  stall,  the  rest  had  piled  upon 
him  and  overborne  him  by  mere  weight  of  numbers. 

Maddox  remained  a  prisoner  also  between  his  two 
guards,  to  whom  were  added  the  sergeant  and  an- 
other man,  with  strict  orders  to  keep  some  fifty 
yards  in  rear,  so  that  the  sight  of  the  man  who  had 
betrayed  him  might  not  add  unneeded  poignancy 
to  the  anguish  of  the  one  whom  they  all  pitied. 

But  when  at  length  they  came  into  the  presence 
of  the  Duke,  Pengraig  could  scarce  contain  his  hor- 


FOR   THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          2OI 

ror  as  he  saw  his  ward  instantly  recognized  as  one 
well  known  to  be  in  the  service  of " the  Elector ' '  from 
the  first.  Then  his  horror  changed  to  hot  indignation 
as  he  further  saw  the  other  released  and  the  cornet 
put  upon  his  defence  for  his  conduct  to  him.  King- 
don  was  one,  however,  whom  promotion  had  passed 
by,  and  he  was  therefore  one  less  careful  to  oil  his 
tongue  in  answering.  He  had,  moreover,  a  justly 
grounded  belief  that  Maddox  had  cleaned  him  out 
by  cheating  at  play  in  other  days,  and  he  took  no 
little  satisfaction  out  of  him  while  justifying  his 
conduct  to  the  Duke. 

"  The  fellow  was  so  shifty  in  his  manner,  sir,  and 
so  hang-dog  in  his  looks,  that  I  was  bound  to  be  sus- 
picious of  him.  Moreover  I  knew  him  long  ago  for 
a  rake-hell,  and  a  cheat  at  cards,  and  other  things  as 
bad  or  worse,  so  that,  taking  all  the  appearances 
into  consideration,  I  was  naturally  more  than  suspi- 
cious of  him.  As  to  his  betraying  his  guardian  into 
our  hands,  that  argued  nothing,  since  he  was  quite 
capable  of  doing  it  merely  to  save  his  own  wretched 
neck.  His  protestations  counted  for  even  less  than 
nothing,  for  he  was  always  as  notorious  a  liar  as  he 
was  a  cheat  and  the  rest  of  it." 

"  A  liar,  sir!  and  a  cheat!  " — but  it  was  the  voice 
of  Pengraig  and  not  that  of  Maddox  which  chal- 


202         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

lenged  so  indignantly.  "  Sir,  I  was  his  guardian 
and  I  never  heard  such  heavy  things  even  whis- 
pered of  him.  That  he  has  become  a  spy — well,  he 
was  ever  a  Whig,  and  black  and  dishonourable  as  it 
is  to  be  a  spy,  yet  these  other  charges — sir,  you 
make  me  hot !  Can  you — 

"  Substantiate  them  ?  yes,"  took  up  Kingdon. 
"  He  was,  of  course,  more  than  careful  to  keep  such 
things  from  you  and,  perhaps,  sir,  he  had  the  less 
difficulty  in  doing  so,  in  that  you  were  so  completely 
taken  up  with — with — the  notions  which  have 
brought  you  into  your  present  sad  position,  sir. 

"  Nevertheless  these  things  existed,  as  I  and 
many  another  pigeon  plucked  by  him  well  know. 
Oh,  he  was  careful  to  keep  upon  the  very  foam  and 
top  of  the  most  distinguished  and  exclusive  vice. 
He  was  on  the  closest  terms  with  my  Lord  this  and 
the  Honourable  that,  but  the  terms  were  those  of  a 
common  debauchery." 

The  Duke  interfered,  for  Maddox  stood  tongue- 
tied  with  sullen  hate  and  cold  confusion.  Even  so 
helpless  and  hopeless  as  his  guardian  now  was,  the 
spy  yet  felt  all  the  mixture  of  dread,  shame,  and 
scowling  defiance  which  he  might  have  felt  had  their 
positions  been  reversed — had  he  been  the  prisoner 
and  the  other  the  free.  Therefore  he  was  grateful 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          203 

when  the  Duke  spoke,  though  he  straightway  cursed 
him  in  his  heart  for  the  answer  which  his  speaking 
drew. 

"  But,  Cornet  Kingdon,"  interposed  Cumber- 
land, "  you  see  now  that  you  were  mistaken  and 
that  Mr.  Maddox  was  an  honest  and  loyal  subject. 
You  will  therefore,  no  doubt,  wish  to  apologize 
for  your  conduct  to  him  and  shake  hands  with 
him." 

"  Sir,"  returned  Kingdon  warmly.  "  I  hold  His 
Majesty's  commission :  what  would  he  say  if  he 
knew  that  I  had  bemired  it  by  apologizing  to  a  com- 
mon spy  ?  A  British  officer  must  be  more  careful 
of  his  honour  than  that  if  he  wishes  to  retain  even 
the  mere  toleration  of  his  fellow  officers  in  the 
army." 

'  The  devil  take  your  British  officers  and  their 
commissions!  "  spluttered  the  Duke.  '  You  are  all 
as  full  of  points  and  codes  as  if  you  were  princes." 

"  I  should  be  sorry  if  they  were  as  empty  of  them 
as  some  Princes  we  know,"  put  in  Pengraig  undaunt- 
edly. 

Kingdon  kept  silent  for  a  moment.  "  So  like 
him,"  thought  he  to  himself,  referring  to  Pengraig. 
"  He  saw  that  I  had  gone  quite  as  far  as  my  com- 
mission was  worth  and  so  he  interposed  to  turn  the 


204         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

Duke's  anger  on  himself.  But  he  is  deep  enough  in 
the  hole  already  without  that 

Nevertheless  he  could  get  no  opportunity  of  put- 
ting in  again,  for  the  Duke  had  quite  forgotten  him 
in  his  new  rage  at  the  prisoner.  In  his  heat  his 
English  failed  him,  with  the  exception  of  the  com- 
monest curses  and  military  oaths,  and  his  Royal 
Highness  fell  back  upon  German,  which  made  his 
anger  only  appear  ludicrous  when  spluttered  and 
larded  out  against  a  man  who  did  not  understand  it. 
In  the  impotence  of  his  wrath  he  turned  against 
Maddox  and  cursed  him  up  hill  and  down  dale  for 
a  spy  and  everything  else  of  which  Kingdon  had 
accused  him — and  in  this  case  English  oaths  and 
curses  so  nearly  sufficed  that  all  the  world  might 
understand. 

Thoroughly  demoralized,  Maddox  was  mounting 
as  if  to  ride  out  of  reach  of  the  tumbling  abuse 
when — another  shock — he  found  himself  under  new 
arrest  till  he  could  be  put  under  bonds  to  appear 
against  the  man  he  had  betrayed. 

Truly  he  was  the  last  man  in  the  world  for  a 
beggar  to  envy. 

From  Meriden  Pengraig  was  despatched  next  day 
under  strong  escort  for  London,  there  to  be  shut  up 
in  Newgate  till  some  day  of  trial  could  be  found ; 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          205 

while  Maddox  bent  his  whole  energies  to  the  de- 
struction of  Meredith.  To  have  already  compassed 
the  end  of  one  whom  he  hated — it  is  easy  to  forgive 
the  man  who  injures  us  but  not  the  man  we  injure 
— only  whetted  his  ferocity  to  more  closely  pursue 
the  other  objects  of  his  hate.  He  could  now  revenge 
himself  upon  his  rival  by  dragging  him  to  the  gal- 
lows and  also,  in  the  same  moment,  upon  the 
woman  who  had  refused  him,  by  the  awful  anguish 
he  would  thus  inflict  upon  her. 

'  Yes,"  muttered  he  to  himself  as  he  marched 
with  the  army.  '  Yes,  we  will  see  how  you  like  it, 
Mister  Meredith.  You  were  looking  forward  to  a 
pair  of  white  arms  about  your  neck — we'll  see  how 
you  like  the  hangman's  rope  instead.  When  this 
rebellion  was  to  be  over  you  looked  to  ride  to  a 
bridal  feast — we'll  see  how  you  like  to  ride  head 
downward  on  the  sledge  when  they  drag  you  to 
execution. 

"  And  you,  my  high  and  mighty  and  most  demure 
Mistress  Mari :  you  are  to  enjoy  yourself  without 
stint.  You  shall  stand  by  and  see  your  father  and 
your  lover  hanged  on  the  same  gallows,  and  then  you 
shall  look  on  while  the  common  hangman  strips  the 
writhing  figure  you  thought  so  handsome  and  watch 
while  they  cut  the  heart  out  and  throw  it  into  the 


206         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

fire.  Oh  yes,  you  shall  see  the  head  chopped  off 
like  a  bullock's,  and  you  shall  watch  the  saw  at 
work  cutting  the  precious  body  you  loved  into 
quarters,  like  so  much  beef,  to  be  stuck  over  town 
gates.  A  fine  thing  then  for  you,  Mistress  Mari, 
to  be  kin  to  and  in  love  with  fly-blown  pieces  of 
putrid  flesh  scattered  from  one  end  of  the  country 
to  the  other!  I'll  teach  you  just  what  you  were 
doing  when  you  scorned  Gwgan  Maddox. " 

He  had  fallen  in  with  Chapel  again  upon  the 
evening  of  his  arrival  at  headquarters,  and  from  him 
learnt  all  that  had  happened  since  they  parted  at 
Wrexham.  At  the  end  of  the  narrative  he  had  just 
opened  his  mouth  to  criticize,  when  the  other  struck 
coldly  in  with  a  blunt,  "  No,  no;  Mr.  Maddox;  not 
this  time:  not  any  more.  We've  had  about  enough 
of  your  plots:  I'll  plot  it  from  now  on.  That  is  to 
say,  I'll  capture  this  Meredith  and  deliver  him  into 
your  hands  for  you  to  do  as  you  like  with.  Be- 
cause you — you've  told  me  so  many  different  tales 
of  what  you  want  to  be  and  seem  and  do,  that  I 
don't  know  what  it  is  you  really  are  after  and 
neither  do  you  yourself  two  minutes  together. 
You  pitch  a  plot  and  straight  away  fall  in  love  with 
the  first  detail  of  it  and  forget  all  about  the  rest, 
till,  when  you  wake  up,  you  have  to  lay  out  a  fresh 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          207 

line  altogether.  You  talk  about  Whig  and  Tory, 
but  what  you've  wanted  all  along  is  to  escape  that 
forgery's  consequence  and  get  rid  of  this  Meredith. 
Very  well;  we  march  north  to-morrow.  In  two  or 
three  days  we  shall  be  within  reach  of  Fidler's 
Ferry.  Then  \ve  will  get  the  loan  of  a  troop  of 
Hessians — 

'  Yes,"  broke  in  Maddox;  "  these  d d  English 

dragoons  would  let  him  slip  if  they  could — they 
ought  all  to  be  shot  for  treason — 

Chapel  smiled  and  nodded  approvingly  as  he  re- 
sumed— "  and  then  we'll  just  drop  down  on  that 
ferryman  and  I  warrant  you  we'll  find  some  way  of 
opening  his  mouth.  You'll  have  Meredith  straight 
off  then — and  me,  dear  me;  ho!  ho!  me,  I'll  have 
that  Ned  of  the  Clough.  And  I'll  shoot  that  Ned  of 
the  Clough!  I'll  twist  that  Ned  of  the  Clough's 
neck  round!  I'll  screw  his  head  off  for  Mr.  Edward 
of  the  Clough !  Whaow !  " — and  the  rest  of  the  vil- 
lain's voice  went  out  in  an  inarticulate  scream. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

WHEN  Shackerly  of  Gwersyllt  rode  to  rouse  the 
Cycle  he  did  his  work  well,  and  daylight  of  the 
following  day  revealed  all  the  roads  leading  eastward 
to  have  each  its  dozen  or  more  parties  of  riders; 
from  the  younger  son  with  his  modest  single  man, 
to  the  lord  of  a  whole  trev  *  with  his  score  of  re- 
tainers. The  word  was  for  Derby  and,  as  the  roads 
were  bad  and  the  distance  great,  the  pace  was  easy, 
in  order  that  they  might  not  arrive  with  useless 
horses.  Naturally,  the  younger  men,  riding  lighter, 
rode  also  faster,  and  thus  it  was  these  who  rested  at 
the  inns  farthest  from  home  that  night. 

For  the  same  reason  it  was  the  same  young  men 
who,  early  next  day,  first  got  word  of  the  retreat 
from  Derby  and  its  continuance  through  Ashbourne 
to  Macclesfield  for  the  north.  The  farther  they 
went  the  surer  they  became  that  the  circumstantial 
tale  was  true,  and  presently  proof  positive  was 
forthcoming  in  a  glimpse  of  a  squadron  of  dragoons, 
going  northwards  by  a  road  which  crossed  imme- 
diately in  front. 

*  Here  signifying  a  township  or  district. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          209 

There  was  no  help  for  it.  Words  would  not  alter 
it.  Nothing  remained  but  a  sorrowful  return. 

As  these  more  forward  ones  bore  back  the  news 
to  those  behind  the  more  experienced  elders  recog- 
nised at  once  the  instant  necessity  of  carrying  the 
news  to  Wynstay,  to  stop  the  rising  before  the  land 
should  be  uselessly  compromised  for  a  cause  that 
was  lost.  There  was  no  thought  now  of  sparing 
horse  or  man  and  thus  it  came  about  that  shortly 
after  the  ensuing  midnight  Sir  Watkin  was  roused 
to  hear  the  fatal  news  with  which  all  England  was 
by  that  time  ringing. 

Lord  Barrymore,  more  nervous  than  his  host 
about  the  enterprise  they  had  embarked  upon,  and 
so  less  able  to  sleep,  had  met  the  messenger  first, 
and  his  aged  face  seemed  doubly  aged  with  the 
weight  of  the  blow  as  he  followed  the  candlebearer 
to  the  door  of  Sir  Watkin's  chamber. 

'  What  shall  we  do  now  ?"  exclaimed  he  when 
he  had  told  the  news.  "  Shall  we  still  go  on  raising 
men  ? " 

'  For  what?  and  for  whom?"  broke  out  Sir  Wat- 
kin  fiercely.  "  Shall  we  ask  men  to  venture  all  for  a 
Prince  who  will  not  even  come  to  command  them  ? 
— who  cares  so  little  about  them  that  he  marches  off 
as  if  they  did  not  exist  ?  Nay,  to  raise  them  now 
14 


210          FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

would  be  murder;  veritable  murder.  If  Charles 
Edward  has  given  up  and  gone  back  to  Scotland,  it 
means  that  he  believes  his  cause  hopeless.  The  crown 
of  Britain  cannot  be  seized  in  Scotland.  If  he  turns 
his  back  upon  the  throne,  we  cannot  bring  it  to  him. 

"  No,  we  must  send  instantly  and  stop  the  rising, 
and  meanwhile,  before  day  breaks,  disperse  those 
already  gathered,  in  order  that  they  may  escape  all 
ill  consequence.  If  it  were  not  worth  Charles  Ed- 
ward's while  to  join  us,  it  is  certainly  not  worth  our 
while  to  die  in  vain  for  him." 

But  his  anger  did  not  last  long.  Presently  grief 
broke  out  above  the  wrath,  and  he  fell  to  lamenta- 
tions for  the  dream  that  was  dashed.  "  Oh  that  so 
great  a  stake  should  have  been  so  meanly  lost.  What ! 
did  they  start  out  to  win  without  a  risk  ?  I  should 
have  thought  that  after  overwhelming  Cope  they 
would  have  turned  for  nothing.  And  now  to  retreat 
without  coming  to  the  shock — Oh,  it  is  ruinous!  " 

But  neither  anger  nor  grief  could  alter  the  situa- 
tion, nor  could  they  form  any  plot  to  save  it,  except 
that  of  sending  three  separate  gentlemen  to  implore 
Charles  Edward  to  retrace  his  steps  and  march  at 
once  to  Wales. 

The  fate  of  this  effort,  however,  may  as  well  be 
told  at  once.  The  news  of  the  retreat  emboldened 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          211 

the  Whig  Justices  and  constables  as  greatly  as  the 
news  of  the  advance  had  formerly  terrified  them. 
These  and  the  Government  troops  together  scoured 
every  lane  and  watched  every  road  in  Cheshire,  until 
the  retreat  had  continued  so  far  north  that  all  dan- 
ger of  a  junction  with  the  Welsh  was  over.  Not 
one  of  the  three  gentlemen,  therefore,  could  get 
through,  and  so  Charles  Edward  was  compelled  by 
the  chiefs,  under  the  thumb  of  Lord  George  Mur- 
ray, to  forego  halting  a  day  at  Manchester,  from 
whence  he  passed  on  to  Preston :  to  the  tragic 
blunder  of  Carlisle:  to  Scotland  and  Culloden — and 
Wales  was  saved  at  least  from  the  horrors  of  devas- 
tation ;  even  if  she  were  also  at  the  same  time  de- 
nied the  perilous  honour  of  again  playing  a  principal 
part  in  the  terrible  game  of  King  making. 

Months  afterward  Charles  Edward  learnt  fully  what 
he  had  lost  by  yielding  to  the  council  at  Derby,  and 
wrote  to  his  father  in  mournful  strain — "  Mr.  Barry 
arrived  at  Derby  two  days  after  I  parted.  He  had 
been  sent  by  Sir  Watkin  Wyn  and  Lord  Barrymore 
to  assure  me  in  the  name  of  my  friends  that  they 
were  ready  to  join  me  either  in  London  or  rise  every 
man  in  his  own  country." 

And  so  we  write  to  Charles  Edward's  chance, 
11  Vale!" 


CHAPTER   XX 

MEANWHILE  what  of  lolyn.  On  the  night 
when  he  returned  to  Wynstay  from  his  fruitless  chase 
to  Coed  Cynan,  he  was  too  utterly  done  up  for  any- 
thing further  but  sleep  that  night.  Next  morning, 
however,  he  was  early  out  and  gone  to  rejoin  Pen- 
graig;  carrying  a  verbal  message  from  Sir  Watkin. 
Unlike  the  members  of  the  Cycle,  he  could  not  turn 
back  when  he  heard  the  ill  news,  not  even  when  he 
saw  the  dragoons.  His  fortunes  lay  with  his  foster- 
father  in  the  Pretender's  army,  and  so  he  must  go  on. 

By  many  a  wile  and  many  a  stratagem  he  slipped 
at  last  through  soldiers,  Justices  and  constables,  till, 
late  on  the  evening  of  Sunday,  the  eighth,  he 
reached  Derby,  only  to  find  the  retreat  an  accom- 
plished fact.  Following  next  day  on  the  track  of 
the  Prince,  and  not  daring  to  make  minute  inquiries 
for  fear  of  arousing  suspicion,  he  overshot  the  trail 
of  Pengraig  at  Ashbourne,  and  it  was  not  until  he 
finally  overtook  the  Jacobite  army,  on  its  first  march 
beyond  Manchester,  that  he  heard  from  William 
Vaughan  of  what  had  happened. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          213 

'  Then  Pengraig  will  be  at  Wynstay  by  this,"  said 
lolyn;  "and  I  have  to  start  even  once  more  for 
that  place.  I  am  like  a  kitten  chasing  its  own  tail 
for  this  last  fortnight.  Ah  well!  perhaps  I  shall 
get  wind  of  poor  Presgwyn  on  the  way  :  I  have  to 
go  over  the  same  ground  in  any  case." 

He  took  the  nearest  road  for  Warrington,  believ- 
ing that  it  was  there  he  should  first  pick  up  the 
trail  of  Meredith.  But  that  town  was  now  alive 
and  ready  to  arrest  all  suspicious  travellers,  so  that 
our  rider,  forced  to  deviate  and  still  desirous  of 
crossing  the  river,  found  himself  chaffering  with 
Jone  Fidler  over  the  ferry  fee. 

For  Jone  suspected  him  to  be  an  escaping  Jacob- 
ite and,  therefore,  one  who  would  suffer  extortion 
rather  than  delay. 

lolyn,  however,  had  inquired  the  proper  price 
when  he  inquired  the  way,  and  now  he  roundly 
told  the  ferryman  that  he  would  see  him  hanged 
before  he  would  pay  more.  Then  while  he  spoke  a 
sudden  gleam  of  cunning  came  into  his  mind  and 
he  set  a  trap  for  the  other. 

"  D'you  think,"  said  he  sneeringly,  "  because 
one  gentleman  paid  you  in  gold  the  other  night, 
rather  than  wait  till  daylight,  that  every  other  man 
wanting  to  cross  is  in  just  as  great  a  hurry  ?  " 


214         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

"  Who  told  thee  he  paid  gold  ? "  exclaimed  Jone, 
starting  back  at  the  word. 

But  before  lolyn  could  answer  he  himself  was 
startled  in  turn  by  a  voice  from  the  hut  which  cried 
cheerily,  "  Good  day  to  thee,  lolyn,  lad.  By  th' 
mass,  but  Aw'm  fain  to  see  thee!  " 

Looking  hastily  up,  he  was  little  the  wiser  of  his 
sudden  mystification  to  behold  the  new  speaker 
advancing,  with  a  twinkle  of  enjoyment  in  his  eye 
as  he  continued,  "  Aw  thought  thou'd  turn  up  soon 
or  late  if  Aw  no'but  tarried  here  lung  enoogh." 

"  Who  are  you  ?  and  how  do  you  know  me  ?" 
demanded  lolyn. 

"  Aw'm  Ned  o'  th'  Cloof,  an'  Aw  know  thee  th' 
same  way  'at  thou  knows  a  gentleman  paid  gowd 
here  t'other  neet.  Aw  guessed  it." 

'  You  could  only  guess  it  after  some  one  had  first 
told  you  my  name  and  described  me.  Now  where 
is  Meredith  ? — for  I  take  it  that  you  must  be  friendly 
or  you  would  not  have  spoken." 

'  What  if  Aw  were  paid  to  guide  thee  into  some 
trap  ?"  returned  Ned  caustically.  "  Such  a  thing's 
bin  done  afore  to-day — an'  at  this  same  ferry,  too." 

Then,  as  the  other  looked  scrutinizingly  at  him 
for  a  moment,  he  continued:  "But  thou'rt  reet; 
Aw  am  friendly.  Meredith  keeps  axin'  for  thee 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          21$ 

whenever  he  comms  round  a  bit,  and  he  towd  me 
weel  what  mak'  of  a  lad  thou  wert.  He  said  ther'd 
be  no  mistakkin'  thee,  and  as  soon  as  Aw  yer'd 
thee  Aw  lippened  (expected)  naught  else  but  thou 
wert  lolyn." 

"In  that  case  where  is  Meredith  now?"  de- 
manded lolyn. 

"  Where  he's  bein'  well  looked  after — in  a  place 
on  t'other  side  o'  th'  river.  Aw'll  tak'  thee  straight 
theer;  never  thee  fear." 

"  All  well  and  good.  And  I'll  keep  a  pistol  handy 
to  your  head  as  we  go,"  replied  lolyn. 

Ned  laughed.  "  Aw  lippen  o'  naught  else.  But 
thou'lt  be  weary  o'  howdin'  it  theer  afore  we  getten 
to  th'  far  eend.  It's  a  dal'd  roogh  road,  lad." 

"  All  the  more  need  for  the  pistol  then,"  re- 
torted the  other.  '  John  Chapel  might  crop  up  at 
any  corner  of  a  rough  road." 

"  Nay,  he'll  crop  none  up  i'  this  gate  yetton 
a  while;  John  Chapel!  Hast  ta  seen  aught  o'  that 
chap  lately  ? " 

"  I  knocked  him  out  of  the  saddle  the  other  day. 
That  was  beyond  Congleton,  but  the  fools  let  him 
get  away  again.  Do  you  know  him  too  ? " 

"  Aye,  an'  Aws'  know  him  better  another  time," 
grinned  Ned;  "for  Aw  put  some  marks  on  him 


2l6         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

wi'  mi  clogs  th'  last  time  Aw  seen  him.  Aw  gan  it 
him  wi'  a  wuther*  and  punced  him  th'  hauve  to 
t'dyeth." 

"  Half  to  death,"  repeated  lolyn  savagely. 
"  He'll  go  to  the  far  end  when  once  I  have  time  to 
hunt  him  up." 

"  Aye,  but  happen  he'll  be  huntin'  thee  first. 
For  he  intends  seechin'  this  t'other  lad,  an'  happen 
thou'lt  find  him  soonest  by  tarryin'  i'  th'  one 
place." 

'  With  Meredith,  you  mean.  In  that  case  then 
you  cannot  take  me  to  him  too  soon,"  answered 
lolyn. 

By  this  time  they  were  aboard  the  boat. 

"  Sitha,"  said  Ned.  "  He  stood  theer  wi'  his 
pistol  i'  one  hond  while  he  poo'd  out  th'  two  guineas 
wi'  t'other.  He'd  bargaint  to  pay  me  two  guineas, 
an'  he  paid  it  like  a  mon  i'  th'  spite  o'  what  he 
knew  were  happenin'.  An'  happen  that's  why 
Aw'm  takkin'  thee  to  him,  now." 

When  they  were  landed  on  the  other  side  Ned 
turned  to  the  ferryman.  "  Bear  i'  mind,  Jone," 
said  he;  "  Aws'  hearken  to  naught  tha'  may  say 
if  thou  has  ony  truck  wi'  yon  Chapel  or  th'  soldiers. 
Aws'  do  for  thee,  no  matter  what  'scuse  thou  mak's, 

*  Wi'  a  wuther  =  with  all  the  strength  of  rage. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         217 

an'  A\vs'  do  it  wi'  mi  clogs  too.  Mak'  no  mistake. 
Thou'rt  fause  (cunning)  we  o'  knowen;  an'  thou 
reckons  thysel'  fauser  yet.  But  thou'rt  none  fause 
enoo'  to  chet  Ned  o'  th'  Cloof. " 

As  they  struck  away  from  the  ferry  Ned  ex- 
plained. "  Yon  Jone  o'  Fidler's  is  none  a  gradely 
mak'.  I'  th'  dayleet  he  reckons  to  be  a  bit  of  a 
Quaker,  but  i'  th'  dark  o'  neet  he'd  stop  onybody's 
wind  for  th'  price  of  a  new  hatband.  An'  he'd 
sell  me  or  ony  o'  th'  rest  of  us  chaps  beheend  our 
backs  if  he  wer'na'  feared  o'  my  clogs.  Aw've 
wondered  a  time  or  two  what  he'd  think  if  Aw  were 
to  tell  him — what's  true — 'at  Aw  know  wheer  his 
brass  is  hidden.  But  to  his  deein'  day  he'd  ne'er 
understond  how  one  thief  could  know  of  another's 
brass  an'  yet  not  steyl  it.  He's  an  ill  mak'  of  a 
mon,  is  Jone  o'  Fidler's." 

While  he  talked  Ned  was  leading  warily  away 
towards  the  nearest  point  of  what  was  still,  at  that 
date,  the  great  Delamere  Forest.  At  the  northern 
extremity  of  it  the  bluff  sloped  steeply  down  to  the 
marsh  through  which  the  Weaver  sluggishly  dis- 
charged its  reedy  waters  into  the  broad  estuary  of 
the  Mersey.  In  a  little  hollow,  hardly  a  clough,  in 
the  face  of  this  bluff  there  dripped  and  matted  a 
close-grown  thicket  of  oak  and  ash,  hazel  and  holly, 


218         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

thorn  and  briar,  and  it  was  to  this  spot  that  Ned 
ultimately  guided  his  companion. 

Penetrating  the  depths  by  a  trail  so  narrow  and 
overhung  that  lolyn — who  had  already  left  his 
horse  at  a  woodman's  cottage  on  the  way — was 
forced  to  stoop,  he  finally  halted  in  front  of  a  non- 
descript building;  plainly  the  handiwork  of  thieves 
and  night  lurkers.  He  did  not  knock  on  the  door, 
but,  taking  down  a  rusty  horseshoe  from  the  wall, 
struck  three  sharp  blows  upon  the  huge  nail  which 
had  held  it  up.  These  three  he  followed  with  two 
and  then  one,  whereupon  the  door  flew  open  and 
from  the  black  interior  emerged  a  surly  visaged 
fellow  whose  eyes  blinked  in  the  light. 

"That  thee,  Jonty  ? "  said  Ned,  pleasantly,  by 
way  of  greeting. 

"  Well,  it's  none  th'  Lord  Chief  Justice,  nor  yet 
Owd  Nick." 

"  Nay,  thou'st  no  need  to  tell  us  thou'rt  not  th' 
Owd  Lad,  Jonty:  thou'rt  none  hondsome  enoof. 
He'll  ha'  naught  to  do  wi'  aught  as  feaw  (ugly)  as 
thee.  But,  sitha,  lad,  Aw've  brought  a  visitor — 
no,  ne'er  mind  combin'  thy  yure  (hair);  an'  there's 
not  time  to  wesh  thysel'  now.  Besides  th'  tide's 
not  in  yetton,  an'  naught  less'll  wesh  thee  clean." 

"  Aye,  Ned  lad,  tha  keeps  on   makkin'  gam'  o' 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          2ig 

me,  but  Aws'  punce  thee  t'  one  o'  these  days, 
afore  tha'll  give  o'er,"  replied  Jonty,  with  a  grin  as 
comprehensive  as  a  mortgage. 

Ne'er  mind  me.     How's  yon  lad  ?  " 

"  Better;  a  bit  better.  But  he's  rare  an'  weak 
yet  for  o'  that." 

"  Dal  it !  Jonty.  What  doesta  poo  sich  a  face  for  ? 
If  he's  wick  (quick)  at  o'  then  he's  worth  a  church- 
yard full  o'  dyed  uns.  By  th'  mass!  thou'rt  as  ill 
as  an  owd  hen  crowin'.  Come  in,"  ended  Ned, 
turning  to  lolyn. 

Following  him,  the  latter  found  himself  in  what 
seemed  a  large  room,  as  well  as  he  could  make  out 
by  the  light  from  the  door  and  the  glow  of  the  fag- 
got fire  from  a  wide  hearth  on  the  right  hand  side. 
Window  there  was  none,  and  so  he  could  only  guess 
at  the  figures  of  two  men,  whose  faces  were  picked 
out  in  ruddy  outline  by  the  flicker  of  the  fire,  as 
they  lay  with  heads  in  the  light  and  feet  away  in  the 
gloom,  turning  to  look  over  their  shoulders  for  a 
glimpse  of  the  newcomers. 

Ned  greeted  them  both.  "  That  thee,  Juddie  ? 
That  thee,  Noggin  ?  " 

'That  thee,  Ned?"  answered  they  both,  and 
forthwith  returned  to  their  steady  gazing  into  the 
coals.  Ned  went  forward  into  the  darkest  corner  of 


220          FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

the  room.  "  Here's  th'  dur,"  said  he  to  lolyn. 
"Com'  inside." 

As  he  spoke  he  opened  a  door  in  the  blackness 
and  at  once  stepped  through  into  a  room  just  as 
light  as  the  other  was  dark.  Inside,  lolyn  paused 
to  look  round.  At  a  broad,  low  window  sat  a  little 
wizened  man,  clad  in  a  coat  a  world  too  big  for  him  : 
a  coat  which  had  once  been  a  brave  one,  but  which 
now  was  sadly  stained  with  snuff,  hard  wear,  and 
much  beer.  On  his  head  was  stuck  a  ragged  bob- 
wig  and  on  his  nose  a  pair  of  horn  spectacles,  for  on 
his  knees  he  held  a  bulky  volume,  labelled  with  a 
title  then  famous  in  every  stable  in  England,  "The 
Masterpiece  of  Farriery,"  by  Gervase  Markham. 

"  Aye,"  said  Ned  to  lolyn,  as  he  indicated  the 
one  whose  spectacled  eyes  were  staring  at  him  over 
the  tome.  "  This  is  th'  doctor  'at's  tending  Mere- 
dith. He're  used  to  be  a  bit  of  a  cow  doctor,  an' 
he's  getten  a  book  theer  'at  he  studies  out  of  afore 
he  tries  aught  fresh  on  his  patient." 

"  Duw !  "  exclaimed  lolyn  in  swift  grief  as  he 
thought  of  what  Meredith  must  have  suffered. 

Ned  caught  his  meaning  and  took  it  up.  "  Aye, 
lad ;  but  what  wouldst  thou  ha'  said  if  we'd  done 
naught,  an'  so  letten  him  dee  for  th'  want  of  even 
so  little  as  a  cow  doctor  can  do  :  What  ?  " 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         221 

'  You  are  right !  I  should  have  said  hard  things. 
But  let  me  see  him  now.  I  am  heavy  to  see  him : 
show  me." 

The  doctor  laid  down  his  volume  and  got  up. 
'  This  way,"  said  he,  leading  to  where  a  great  sheet 
of  canvas,  which  had  been  a  ship's  sail,  hung  across 
the  farther  end  of  the  room.  Drawing  this  quietly 
aside  he  motioned  them  to  step  beyond,  and  lolyn, 
first  and  eager,  could  not  suppress  another  excla- 
mation of  grief  as  he  found  himself  bending  over  a 
rude  bedstead,  whereon  was  lying  the  still  and 
wasted  form  of  Ithel  Meredith,  lord  of  Pres- 
gwyn. 

"Och!  och!"  he  broke  out  under  his  breath. 
"  Oh!  to  look  at  him  and  to  think  of  the  man  that 
bowed  good-bye  to  Mari."  He  took  the  thin  hand 
in  his  own,  wondering  the  while  that  the  eyes  did 
not  open. 

"  Nay,  he'll  not  waken,"  said  the  doctor.  "  He 
was  in  some  pain,  so  I  gave  him  a  sleeping  mixture. 
He'll  be  better  when  he  rouses  agen;  but  that'll 
not  be  this  side  of  dark,  for  I  gave  him  the  same 
dose  as  a  thoroughbred  horse — him  being  a  gentle- 
man." 

4  The  same  as  a  horse!  "  lolyn  laughed  wearily. 
But  half-way  in  the  laugh  he  caught  his  breath. 


222          FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

"  And  will  he  live  ?  Do  you  think  he'll  live  ? "  he 
went  on  eagerly  to  both. 

"  Yes,  he'll  pull  through  now  all  right;  especially 
since  it  seems  he'll  have  a  friend  to  unburden  his 
mind  to ;  for  that  has  been  as  much  against  him  as 
the  bullet  almost." 

"  Aye,"  put  in  Ned.  "  Never  fear.  If  thou'd 
seen  him  five  days  sin'  thou'd  ne'er  be  feeart  for 
him  ony  moor.  Aw  said  then  'at  if  he  poo'd 
through  that  he'd  live  forever.  Yigh;  he's  wo'th  o' 
th'  dyed  uns  'at  e'er  were  buried." 

lolyn  wrung  his  hand  with  a  grip  that  fairly 
astonished  the  caustic  Ned.  '  Why,  lad,  thou'st 
getten  a  gradely  gripe  i'  thy  hond.  By  th'  mass! 
if  thou  con  no'but  get  that  gripe  on  Chapel's 
throttle  aw  reckon  he'd  be  fain  to  swop  it  for  my 
clogs,  even." 

The  other  grinned  weakly  while  he  took  a  gentler 
clasp  of  the  doctor's  hand.  "  If  there  is  anything 
that  I  can  ever  do!"  said  he,  trying  to  brace  the 
tremor  in  his  voice.  "  If  money,  or  fighting,  or 
anything  else,  can  help  you  after  this 

"  Say  naught  moor  just  yet,  lad,"  broke  in  Ned. 
"  Happen  we'st  want  moor  nor  thou  bargains  for. 
Aw  reckon  tha'  has  a  good  notion  o'  what  we  are, 
here?" 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         22$ 

"  I  care  not  what  else  you  are  to  other  men.  To 
me  you  are  the  men  who  nursed  my  best  friend — 
bar  Pengraig.  That  wipes  out  all  scores  with  me." 

"  It's  a  pity  th'  judges  are  none  o'  th'  same  opin- 
ion," answered  Ned  drily.  "  An'  agen,  thou'rt 
forgettin'.  Aw  geet  my  pay  afore  Aw  did  a  hond's 
turn  for  him.  Lad!  he  bargaint  to  gi'e  me  two 
guineas  for  showin'  him  th'  road  to  a  crossin',  an' 
then,  though  he  were  weel  sure  'at  Aw'd  betrayed 
him,  he  wouldno'  break  his  word.  '  Here  is  your 
money '  says  he — that's  th'  mak'  of  a  mon  for  me. 

"  An' — aw'll  tell  thee  what.  If  he  were  weel  an' 
hearty  tomorn  Aw'd  rob  him  if  Aw  could — though 
he'd  be  a  wick  un  to  try  that  gam'  on — but  Aw'll 
see  John  Chapel  i'  hell  afore  Aw'll  let  him  or  ony- 
body  else  do  an  ill  turn  to  th'  lad  while  he  lies 
theer  like  that." 

lolyn  extended  his  hand  again  but  Ned  drew  back. 

Nay;  thou's  yerd  naught  yetton  about  how  th' 
lad  coom  here.  Thou  axes  naught." 

I  have  no  need.     John  Chapel  did  it." 

"  Aye,  but  why  ?  "  said  Ned. 

"  Didn't  he  tell  you  ?" 

"  If  he  towd  aught  at  o'  he  towd  it  to  th'  Narker. 
Aw  yerd  naught,  an'  th'  Narker' s  dyed  an'  connot 
tell  us  aught,"  returned  Ned  in  a  puzzled  tone. 


224        FOR    THE    WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO. 

"Well,  what  guess  do  you  make?"  asked 
lolyn. 

"  None.  There  was  a  papper  on  th'  lad,  an'  th' 
doctor  here  read  it  out  to  us,  but  it  were  no'  but  a 
business  letter.  We  could  mak'  naught  on't, 
'speshly  as  th'  Narker  had  said — when  he  fust  come 
to  me  about  th'  job — 'at  this  were  a  Government 
affair,  an'  'at  if  we  could  capture  this  lad  bout 
(without)  hurtin'  him  we  should  get  our  pardon  fro' 
th'  King  hissel'.  We  did  it  a  thisen— "  and  Ned 
ran  rapidly  over  the  history  of  the  waylaying  of 
Ithel,  as  we  know  it,  up  to  the  kicking  of  John 
Chapel.  "  An'  at  th'  after  Aw'd  done  puncin' 
him,"  continued  the  narrator,  "  Jone  o'  Fidler's 
went  through  him  as  he  lee  an'  we  found  ninety 
gowd  guineas  on  him:  so  tha'  sees  we'n  bin  weel 
paid  aforehond  for  what  we've  done  since  for  th'  lad. 

"  Nay,  bide  a  bit  till  Aw  tell  my  tale  out.  At  th' 
break  o'  day,  th'  doctor  here,  comin'  whoam  fro' 
prowlin'  on  th'  Manchester  road,  drops  across  th' 
lad  in  a  ditch.  If  he'd  met  him  wick  an'  whol' 
he'd  ha'  brought  him  to  a  stond  for  his  brass,  but 
findin'  him  so  nee  done  for  he  thought  he'd  try  his 
hond  at  doctorin'  him  up  agen.  So  he  brought  him 
here. 

"  Noggin  an'  Jonty  were  for  finishin'  him  off  an' 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         22$ 

havin'  done  wi't,  but  when  Aw  fund  it  were  th' 
same  lad  Aw  towd  'em  Aw'd  punce  'em  a  bit  if 
they  didno'  mak'  a  less  din.  Then  we  had  him 
into  this  bed  an'  geet  th'  owd  doctor  a  book  for  to 
study  in,  an'  he  picked  up  a  wig  fro'  somewheer — 
he  says  a  mon  con  study  better  wi'  a  wig;  wigs 
keepen  th'  brain  moor  equal  he  thinks — an'  so  we've 
done  what  we  con  fro'  that  time  to  this. 

"  Nay,  howd  on  a  bit," — for  lolyn  would  have 
interrupted  with  thanks  and  queries — "  A  neet  or 
two  after,  this  same  Chapel  turns  up  agen  at  th' 
ferry  an'  tries  to  buy  Jone  o'er.  Jone  stowed 
him  off  an'  coom  away,  but  he  ne'er  towd  me  about 
it  till  Noggin  spoke ;  for  Noggin  had  been  hid  close 
by,  unknown,  an'  yerd  it  o'.  That's  why  Aw'm 
none  trustin'  Jone  o'  Fidler's  till  Aw've  bin  an' 
seen  him  agen. 

"  An'  now  let's  yer  what  thou  has  to  say  ? " 

What  lolyn  had  to  say  did  not  include  any  ex- 
cuses for  Ned's  conduct  either  in  guiding  Meredith 
into  the  trap  or  in  tending  him  afterwards.  He  let 
one  balance  the  other  so  far  as  words  went,  and 
simply  said,  "  I  suppose  you  know  by  this  time  that 
Meredith  was  mixed  up  with  this  affair  of  Prince 
Charles  Edward's  ?" 

"  So  likely:  he's  just  that  mak'  of  a  lad!  " 
15 


226          FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

'  Well  then,  since  this  retreat  things  are  altered 
and  we  shall  have  to  get  him  away  from  here  as  soon 
as  ever  it  is  possible  to  move  him." 

"  An'  that'll  be  mony  a  day,  yetton — an'  besides, 
which  way  is  he  to  go  ?  Th'  roads  are  swarmin'  wi' 
redcoats,"  answered  Ned. 

"  He  must  go  into  Wales  and  we'll  take  him  by 
water.  Meanwhile  the  thing  is  to  make  sure  of 
Fidler.  Can  you  manage  him  ?  " 

"  Aw'm  hardly  sure,  he's  one  o'  that  mak'  'at 
saves  every  penny.  He  doesna'  rob  for  summat 
to  keep  him  alive  or  because  he  con  do  naught  else, 
like  th'  rest  on  us.  He  robs  for  th'  sake  o'  havin' 
more  brass  to  hide  an'  think  o'er.  But  Aw'll  do 
what  Aw  con — by  th'  Mass  Aw'll  cob  him  into  th' 
river  if  Aw  con  do  no  other  gate." 

"  If  money  will  do  it,"  said  lolyn  eagerly;  "  then 
tell  him  he  shall  have  forty  guineas  the  day  we  are 
safe  out  of  this." 

"  Aw'm   feart  yon   Chapel   'ud   gi'e  double  and 
buy  him  o'er  our  yeds  a-that  gate,"  returned  Ned. 
'  What  makes  yon   Chapel  so  keen  on  ?     Govern- 
ment chaps  are  none  so  keen  every  day — even  for 
rebels." 

'  You  are  right — this  is  a  private  affair." 

"  Oh!    Well,  as  Aw  were  sayin',  Aw  lippen  Aw 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         22/ 

could  do  best  wi'  Jone  Fidler  bout  brass.  But  it's 
different  wi'  these  chaps  inside;  they  mun  oather 
ha'  brass  or  else  goo  out  and  look  for  some.  Now, 
th'  doctor  here  fund  forty  odd  guineas  on  th'  lad, 
but  him  an'  me  we  kept  it  quiet  — 

"  Never  mind,  use  it  if  you  can  do  any  good  with 
it,"  broke  in  lolyn  :  "  and  I've  got  as  much  again  if 
that  will  help  you  at  all." 

"  Nay,  lad,  steady  a  bit.  Keep  that  forty  o'  thine 
for  another  day;  we're  none  gone  yetton.  An' 
here,  put  thee  this  t'other  forty  o'  th'  lad's  i'  thy 
own  pocket  too  for  a  while,  an'  Aw'll  bargain  wi' 
th'  chaps  for  them  to  ha'  so  mich  apiece  when  it's 
o'er.  Then  a  couple  on  us  mun  go  an'  talk  to  Jone 
o'  Fidler' s " 

Just  at  this  moment  the  door  opened  and  Jonty 
stuck  his  head  inside.  "Weesch!  Ned!  We  con 
yer  summat  outside." 


CHAPTER    XXI 

NED  looked  quickly  and  questioningly  at  lolyn, 
but  the  lad's  "  Are  we  even  too  late  with  Jone  Fid- 
ler  already  ?  "  showed  him  at  once  that  no  treachery 
was  there. 

"  Stond  ready,"  he  whispered  to  the  doctor,  who 
instantly  drew  a  pair  of  brass  pistols  from  beneath 
the  flap  of  his  waistcoat  and  faced  the  window. 
Then  he  led  the  way  back  into  the  dark  room  again. 
"Dowse  that  fire!"  commanded  he  beneath  his 
breath  to  Noggin. 

Scarce  was  this  done  than  they  heard  a  hasty  step 
outside,  retreating  from  the  door.  Then  a  slight 
hiss  became  distinctly  audible  and  before  Juddie 
could  more  than  finish  his  whisper  of  "  Ecod  !  what's 
that?"  a  deafening  explosion  burst  in  the  door, 
with  part  of  the  wall  as  well. 

'Th'sodiers!  by  th'  mass!"  ejaculated  Jonty, 
and  as  if  in  answer  there  came  the  sound  of  heavily 
booted  feet  crashing  over  twigs  and  brambles,  and 
a  clamour  of  shouts  in  a  foreign  tongue  as  in 
through  the  gap  burst  a  throng  of  Hessian  soldiers. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         229 

Instantly  the  room  was  lit  and  deafened  by  a 
simultaneous  volley  from  the  five  within.  Four  of 
the  foremost  Hessians  piled  in  a  writhing  heap  upon 
the  floor,  and  a  second  volley  immediately  added 
three  others.  Then  as  the  rest  hung  hesitating  at 
the  door,  Ned  seized  a  blunderbuss  from  somewhere 
in  the  dark  and  emptied  it  into  the  throng. 

With  wild  cries  of  dismay  they  broke  and  fled 
back  into  the  thicket,  but  hardly  had  the  five  time 
to  reload  than  the  doctor's  voice  was  heard  shout- 
ing, "  This  way,  a  couple  of  you !  " 

Dashing  in  to  his  help  lolyn  and  Ned  saw  that  the 
window  was  smashed  inwards,  while  half-a-dozen 
muskets  were  thrusting  through  and  firing  wildly 
at  the  opposite  wall.  The  doctor  was  coolly  kneel- 
ing under  the  window,  pistols  ready,  and  now,  as  a 
couple  of  the  most  eager  of  the  Hessians  leaped  in, 
he  put  a  pistol  up  to  each  body  and  shot  them  from 
where  he  knelt.  At  the  same  moment  Ned  pulled 
loose  with  both  pistols  into  the  crowd  of  heads, 
while  lolyn,  who  had  seized  a  blunderbuss  from 
Noggin  as  he  passed,  sprang  with  a  mad  laugh  to 
the  window  and  fired  right  along  the  faces  of  those 
nearest.  Here,  too,  the  repulse  was  as  complete  as 
in  the  other  room  and  weapons  were  swiftly  re- 
loaded against  another  attack. 


230         FOR   THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

Up  to  this  every  advantage  save  that  of  numbers 
had  been  with  those  inside,  but  now  the  Hessians 
were  warned  of  what  they  had  to  expect  and  so 
became  more  wary.  This  turned  the  odds  com- 
pletely, for  the  bush  was  dense  right  up  to  the  very 
eaves  of  the  house,  which  again  was  a  mere  patch- 
work of  driftwood,  logs  and  thatch.  Fire  would 
lick  it  up  like  a  stack  of  faggots  and  the  bush  gave 
complete  cover  to  anyone  applying  it. 

Ned  knew  it  well.  '  They'll  burn  us  out  if  we 
tarry  here,"  said  he  at  once.  He  turned  to  the 
darkest  corner  of  the  room,  just  beyond  the  inner 
door,  and  seemed  to  drag  down  the  wattle .  wall. 
Then  he  flung  open  another  door  behind  it. 
"  Come  lads,  we  mun  be  shiftin'.  Doctor,  thee  an' 
Jonty  lap  yon  lad  up  an'  carry  him  out  this  gate. 
Juddie,  thee  tak*  th'  lanthern  an'  show  'em  a  leet 
through  th'  tunnel.  Noggin,  thou'll  go  fust  wi' 
thy  pistols  ready,  while  me  an'  lolyn  keepen  this 
eend  till  yo' getten  clear  off.  Hei  yo' !  "  (Hie  you!) 

Hastily  rushing  to  the  bed  the  doctor  wrapped  up 
his  patient  in  the  blankets.  Then,  placing  him  on 
a  rude  litter  which  had  evidently  been  used  before, 
he  and  Jonty  came  swiftly  back  with  their  heavily 
drugged  burden  to  where  Juddie  stood  ready  with  a 
lanthorn  to  light  them. 


231 

-  Already  the  fire  had  been  applied  outside  and  by 
this  time  the  crackling  of  flames  overhead  betok- 
ened that  the  thatch  was  well  alight.  As  the  litter 
and  its  bearers  disappeared  Ned  spoke.  "  It's  a  bit 
of  a  tunnel  through  a  shouther  o'  this  hill.  About 
forty  yards  on  an'  then  dayleet  an'  a  path  to  th' 
river.  We  ha'n  a  boat  theer. " 

They  two  stood  at  guard,  each  with  a  belt  full  of 
extra  pistols  and  a  double-loaded  blunderbuss  in  his 
hand ;  for  the  place  was  a  veritable  armoury.  Then 
a  sound  of  shouts  and  shots  came  through  the  tunnel 
behind  them  and  straightway  Ned  turned.  "  Come 
on,"  he  shouted.  '  Jone  Fidler  mun  ha'  shown 
'em.  Couch!"  (Stoop!) 

The  floor  was  smooth  and  the  two  went  swiftly. 

The  exit  had  indeed  been  betrayed  and  the 
three  men  with  Meredith  had  all  dropped  at  the 
first  volley,  fired  by  a  party  ambushed  not  four 
yards  away.  But  Noggin  had  escaped  the  first 
blast,  and  was  now  fighting  with  the  stubborn 
courage  of  a  bull-dog,  surrounded  by  the  Hes- 
sians. 

Help  came  too  late  to  save  him,  though  not  to 
avenge  him.  Not  a  shot  was  wasted;  not  a  tricferer 

o  oo    . 

pulled  save  at  arm's  length  range,  and  the  two  who 
fell  to  the  blunderbusses  fell  almost  blown  in  twain. 


232         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

The  pistols  followed  instantly,  each  with  its  mass  of 
slugs,  while  the  bidogan  in  that  red  right  hand  was 
like  lightning  in  its  stroke.  The  soldiers  had  been 
a  dozen  in  ambush :  three  only  escaped  to  rejoin  the 
ranks  where  the  rest  of  the  troop  came  crashing 
through  the  bushes  towards  the  sounds  of  the 
firing. 

"  Come  lad!  look  to  thysel'  now!  "  shouted  Ned, 
starting  to  run. 

But  lolyn  was  stooping  to  lift  Meredith.  "  Not 
without  him,"  he  muttered  as  he  lifted  the  blan- 
keted form. 

Ned,  looking  back  over  his  shoulder,  saw  the  sight 

and  stopped  irresolute.  'Well  I'll  be  d d! 

He'd  sooner  be  kilt !  An'  Aw'm  to  be  slain,  too,  for 
o'  he'll  drop  that.  Well,  here  gwos. "  * 

With  the  word  he  dashed  back  and  seized  the 
loaded  musket  of  a  dead  soldier.  At  that  moment 
the  officer  leading  the  Hessians  appeared  in  view. 
Instantly  the  report  of  the  musket  rang  through 
the  wood,  and  the  officer  pitched  headlong  down 
the  slope. 

His  fall  checked  the  whole  line,  and  the  men  drew 
back  for  an  instant  deeper  into  the  shelter  of  the 

*  In  the  same  way  that  stone  makes  "  stwon  "  instead  of  "  stooan  "  : 
bone,  "  bwon,"  etc. 


FOR   THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         233 

thicket,  from  whence  they  began  a  wild  blind  fusil- 
lade, which  could  hurt  nothing  because  they  dared 
not  come  out  to  take  aim. 

"  This  road  now!  "  cried  Ned  to  lolyn.  "  Mind 
thy  feet :  it's  narrow  underfooht.  We  s'  do  'em  yet 
if  we  looken  sharp." 

Evening  was  just  beginning  to  gloom  and  the  path 
was  one  only  for  those  who  knew  it.  What  with 
this  and  the  check  given  to  the  Hessians,  it  was 
speedily  apparent  that  the  two  were  gaining  ground, 
even  in  spite  of  the  burden  which  lolyn  carried. 
But  soon  they  came  to  the  outermost  fringe  of  the 
thicket  at  a  point  where  the  open  ground  stretched 
away,  for  some  two  fields'  breadth,  between  them 
and  the  marsh.  Here  the  going  was  so  much  better 
that  they  had  won  three-fourths  of  the  way  across 
before  a  great  shout  from  behind  told  them  that 
they  were  discovered. 

"Aye,  stond  and  skrike ! "  quoth  Ned  with  a 
grin.  "  Stond  and  skrike  for  about  another  two 
minutes,  an'  then  yo'  may  stond  forever  for  o'  th* 
catchin'  of  us  yo'll  do." 

But  the  pursuers  had  no  intention  of  standing 
and  shouting.  As  fast  as  their  heavy  jack-boots 
would  allow,  they  ran  down  in  full  cry ;  each  man 
of  them  pantingly  eager  to  win  the  price  which  a 


234        FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

wild  scream   in  their  rear  was  proclaiming  on  the 
heads  of  all  three  fugitives. 

"Oh,  if  Ithel  were  but  well  enough  to  run!" 
ground  out  lolyn  between  his  clenched  teeth :  "  then 
I  would  stop  that  screaming  for  ever.  That  is  John 
Chapel  egging  them  on  and  yet  I  am  forced  to  run." 

"  Aye,  an'  yon's  Jone  Fidler,  showin'  'em  th' 
gate  (road)  and  yet  Aw'm  forced  to  run  too,"  an- 
swered Ned.  "  But  here  we  are  at  th'  edge  o'  th' 
moss  (marsh).  Now  keep  close,  an'  step  wheer  Aw 
step,  foot  for  foot,  an'  when  they  tryen  to  follow 
thou'lt  yer  'em  splash  in  o'er  th'  yed;  for  even  Jone 
Fidler  knows  naught  o'  this  path." 

Two  hundred  yards  or  so  in  front  of  them  swelled 
a  green  knoll,  making  a  firm  island  some  two  or 
three  acres  in  extent,  and  towards  this  Ned  was 
heading  by  a  seemingly  zig-zag  and  haphazard  line. 
When  as  yet  they  had  still  some  forty  yards  or  so 
to  cross,  however,  a  babel  of  new  cries  rose  at  the 
edge  of  the  marsh  behind  them. 

'  What  did  Aw  tell  thee  ?  "  chuckled  Ned  again. 
"  An'  this  bit  of  a  knowe  i'  th'  front — once  we 
getten  to  that  we're  safe.  Con  t'  last  so  furr  wi' 
thy  bor'n  ?  "  (burden). 

lolyn  nodded,  he  had  no  breath  left  for  speech. 
Ankle,  nay,  half  knee  deep,  he  ploughed  along 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          235 

with  his  burden,  and  Ned,  glancing  at  him  over  his 
shoulder,  broke  out  with  deep  approval. 

"  Lad!  thou'rt  built  as  fine  as  a  woman  an'  yet 
thou'rt  as  strong  as  a  horse,  an'  tha'rt  all  o'er  a 
bulldog.  By  th'  mass!  Aw'd  like  to  see  thee  at 
Ovvdham  Wakes  or  Rachda'  Rushbearin',  for  there's 
some  rare  lads  theer  for  feightin'.  But  just  another 
strid'  or  two  an'  then !  " 

With  the  last  word  they  stepped  out  on  to  the 
firm  ground  of  the  island,  whose  gentle  crest  swelled 
up  from  right  under  their  feet.  The  edge  o'  dark 
was  falling  lower  and  lower  as  they  panted  up,  and 
mist  wreaths  were  already  filming  over  the  wet  waste 
as  they  paused  at  the  top ;  one  to  rest  and  gasp  for 
breath,  and  the  other  to  look  behind. 

A  sharp  oath  of  anger  from  Ned  caused  lolyn  to 
turn  and  look  also.  Then  his  dry  lips  parted  in  a 
savage  grin  as  he  beheld  some  half  dozen  Hessians, 
led  by  the  unmistakeable  figure  of  the  ferryman, 
filing  across  by  the  very  path  they  had  just  quitted. 

"  Oh  then,  Jone  o*  Fidler's, "  began  Ned,  grimly 
apostrophising  the  figure  approaching.  "  Aw  begin 
to  know  thee  better.  Pause !  Aye  thou  wert  olez 
a  fause  'un  but  Aw  never  thought  thee  as  fause  as 
thou  shows  thysel'  now.  Yigh,  Aw'll  own  up,  Jone, 
thou  had  us  o'  for  fools,  for  thou  mun  ha'  watched 


236         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

us  neet  after  neet  to  larn  that  path;  an'  that  too, 
when  thou  knew  weel  what  we'd  ha'  done  if  we'd 
fund  thee. 

"  An'  now  thou'rt  usin'  what  thou  larnt.  Aw've 
yerd  say  'at  whatever  it  is  a  mon  wears  (spends) 
time  i'  larnin'  it'll  com'  in  useful  some  day.  And 
so  will  this  larnin'  o'  thine,  Jone;  for  it'll  save  thee 
fro'  o'  sickness  or  doctor's  fees. 

"  Aye,  that's  reet,  come  thee  forr'ad,  Jone,  owd 
lad — an',  by  Him  that  made  me!*  Aw'll  gie  thee 
sich  a  welcome  as'll  do  thee  forever!  " 

During  this  speech  lolyn  had  taken  his  burden  to 
lay  it  down  on  the  farther  slope  out  of  the  possible 
line  of  fire.  When  he  came  back  Ned  read  his 
face,  and  answered  it  instantly.  "  Aye,  we  mun 
feight  it  out  here.  There's  no'but  th'  hauve  a 
dozen  foreigners  an'  one  dal'd  Judas.  We'll  mak* 
as  if  we  were  feeart,  an'  run  this  twothri  steps  o'er 
th'  top  as  if  we  ne'er  would  stop  agen.  Then  as 
soon  as  we're  out  o'  th'  sect  we'n  check  an'  couch 
down.  That  way  we  s'  surprise  'em,  for  they'll 
come  o'er  this  knowe  like  schoo'  lads.  Then  we'n 
let  into  'em." 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  there  was  scaicely 

*  Another  common  form  of  oath  in  the  same  districts  as  "  by  the 
mass ! " 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          237 

time  for  more  than  to  reload  musket  and  blunder- 
buss as  they  lay  waiting,  before  they  heard  the  pant- 
ing of  their  eager  pursuers  racing  up  the  slope. 

'  John  Chapel  is  not  with  them,"  muttered  lolyn 
savagely.  "  I  saw  the  cur  jackanaping  and  snarling 
on  the  edge  of  the  marsh  but  never  daring  to  fol- 
low." 

Then  the  fleetest  of  the  Hessians  showed  their 
faces  over  the  rise,  and  the  two  stretched  up  and 
fired,  muzzles  touching,  into  them.  Both  pistols 
next,  and  then  the  two  hindermost  of  the  soldiers 
turned  and  fled  in  panic  at  such  a  deadly  ambush, 
leaving  their  comrades  lying  on  the  sward,  gasping 
and  dying. 

But  one;  the  one  who  had  guided  them;  Jone  o' 
Fidler's  Ferry;  had  come  to  his  last  action  in  this 
world.  Surprised  as  completely  as  the  rest,  he  yet 
recognised  in  the  same  flash  that  for  him  at  least 
there  was  no  fleeing  back.  He  was  the  hindermost 
of  all,  but  he  kept  straight  on  for  Ned,  hands  spread 
to  catch  a  hold. 

Ned  dropped  the  pistol  and  stooped  forward. 
"  Aw  gan  thee  fair  warnin',  Jone!"  he  cried.  As 
they  came  within  reach  both  darted  out  the  grip, 
but  Ned  was  quickest  and  with  a  clutch  of  the 
ankles  turned  the  other  full  length  backwards  down 


238         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

the  slope.  Then,  swift  as  lightning,  he  leaped  and 
kicked  just  as  the  head  of  Jone  touched  the  ground. 
The  heavy,  iron  shod  clog  struck  him  fairly  in  the 
temple  with  a  crash  of  shattered  bone :  one  single 
shudder  ran  through  the  frame  and  stirred  the  limbs, 
and  then  Jone  Fidler's  corpse  lay  still  and  white; 
while  still,  and  white,  and  tenderly  upon  it,  shone 
softly  down  the  evening  star's  first  ray. 

"  Aw  gan  thee  fair  warnin',  Jone,  an'  Aw've  kept 
my  word,"  said  Ned  o'  th'  Cloof,  in -grim  quiet,  to 
the  thing  at  his  feet. 

Then  turning  to  lolyn.  '  We're  safe,  at  last. 
Aw'm  th'  only  mon  left  livin'  now  'at  knows  his 
way  through  this  moss." 


CHAPTER   XXII 

WHERE  the  other  slope  of  the  green  island  met 
the  marsh  again,  it  was  fringed  by  a  belt  of  catkin 
willows,  strong  and  pliant.  '  We'n  cut  another 
litter  out  o'  yon,"  said  Ned.  "  It'll  tak'  us  bwoth 
o'  our  time  to  get  through  wi'  this  lad,  even  if  we 
ha'n  saved  him  so  far." 

Few  minutes  sufficed  for  the  fashioning  of  the 
litter  and  then  the  two  lifted  their  burden  and  set 
forth  anew  by  a  path  which  even  Ned  was  dubious 
of.  '  Yon  poor  owd  doctor  made  a  good  job  o' 
sendin'  this  bur'n  o'  ours  to  sleep,"  said  he  as  they 
floundered  forward.  "  An'  it's  well  he  did," — as  he 
slipped  to  his  knees  in  the  mud. 

"  Is  there  much  more  of  this  ?"  demanded  lolyn 
in  savage  anxiety. 

"  Nay,  we  s'  come  on  a  water  lane  i'now:  th' 
one  we  keepen  th'  boat  in." 

True  enough  they  presently  entered  a  patch  of 
tall  reeds  and  dwarf  willows,  and  pushing  through 
these  Ned  checked  upon  the  edge  of  a  livid  strip  of 
stagnant  water,  which  in  the  closing  darkness 


240         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

looked  like  the  tongue  of  some  foul  pestilence, 
whose  breath  was  the  clammy  vapour  reeking  up 
from  the  miles  of  rotting  reeds  and  ooze. 

"  Steady  now,"  said  Ned,  as  he  stepped  aboard 
the  boat  at  his  feet. 

Carefully  following,  lolyn  breathed  a  great  sigh 
of  relief  as  they  laid  their  burden  down  upon  the 
thwarts.  "  Ah!  he'll  rest  easier  now.  Thank  God 
he  did  not  wake  while  we  were  carrying  him.  That 
would  have  torn  him  to  pieces." 

Ned  was  busy  pushing  off  and  as  they  went 
along  the  lane  the  other  could  see,  by  the  light  of 
the  stars  and  the  reflection  of  the  water,  that  the 
boat  also  was  a  nondescript  of  the  thieves'  own 
building,  like  the  house  still  blazing  redly  against 
the  bluff  behind.  Almost  flat  bottomed;  its  gun- 
wale was  yet  so  high  above  the  thwarts  as  to  look 
like  the  bulwarks  of  a  miniature  ship,  so  that  it 
would  not  leave  much  of  any  occupant  in  view. 
Moreover  its  timbers  were  of  stout  oak,  and  more 
than  one  bullet  scar  was  plainly  visible  to  witness  of 
hot  work  seen  at  some  time  or  other. 

"Aye,"  said  Ned,  divining  the  thoughts  of  the 
other:  "  we  used  to  tak'  this  boat  when  we  went 
down  to  see  if  there  were  aught  to  be  getten  from 
among  th'  ships  by  Liverpool.  Yigh,  it's  bin  i' 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          241 

some  roogh  jobs,  but  Aw  reckon  it's  done  its  last 
do  o'  that  mak',' '  ended  he  mournfully. 

No  more  was  said  as  they  pulled  or  poled  along, 
until  at  length  they  emerged  from  the  reeds  into 
the  river  proper.  This  was  the  Weaver  and 
they  continued  down  it  till  they  opened  the  wide 
estuary  of  the  Mersey  itself  and  Ned  drew  in  his 
oars. 

"  Which  way  now  ? "  said  lolyn. 

"  Nay,  lad,  thou'rt  th'  gaffer  now.  In  that  moss 
we'n  just  left:  in  that  house  'at's  brunt  beheend 
us;  or  up  at  Fidler's  ferry,  Aw  were  th'  gaffer  of  o' 
'at  coom.  But  Aw'm  nob'dy  now;  Aw've  noather 
kin  nor  come-fro'  ony  moor.  Aw'm  not  talkin' 
o'  my  feyther's  house  and  folk,  for  sich  a  gallows- 
wastrel  as  me  can  ha'  naught  to  do  wi'  a  feyther 
or  a  gradely  whom'.  But  whom',  an'  friends  an' 
country  are  what  Aw've  just  lost,  for  yon  'at  's 
brunt,  an'  thoose  'at  lien  slain,  an*  that  stretch  o' 
moss  and  forest  'at  Aw  cornt  go  back  to,  were  o'  'at 
Aw  had  by  way  of  ony  o'  th'  three. 

"  111  as  they  were,  Aw  had  no  better,  an'  Aw 
thought  as  well  on  'em  as  Aw  could — me  'at  should 
ha'  been  hung  lung  sin'  for  no'but  th'  first  o'  mony 
things  Aw've  done. 

"  But  it's  o'  ended  wi'  now,  an'  so,  lad,  thou'rt 
16 


242         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

th'  gaffer  fro'  this  on.     It's  thee  at  mun  say  wheer 
we  gwoen. ' ' 

For  answer  lolyn  reached  his  hand  across  and 
over  the  inert  form  of  Meredith  they  two  shook 
hands  in  unspoken  compact. 

As  they  dropped  the  clasp,  Ned  at  his  forward 
thwart  picked  up  and  stepped  the  mast  and  rigged 
the  low  lugsail  it  carried. 

'  We  want  to  get  to  Wales,"  said  lolyn,  as  he 
shipped  the  rudder.  "  We  can't  cross  the  open  sea 
in  this  boat  and  so  we  must  get  a  passage  in  some 
coaster  out  from  Liverpool.  There  may  be  difficulty 
in  that  and  there  may  be  none;  but  if  our  guineas 
won't  bribe  a  captain  then  our  pistols  must  per- 
suade one.  So  we'll  hold  down  the  river  and  board 
the  likeliest." 

Ned  was  a  perfect  pilot  and  his  skill  was  of  all 
advantage  as  he  took  the  helm,  for  the  tide  was  just 
swelling  to  the  full  against  them.  Behind  them 
slowly  opened  the  silvery  fan  which  white  armed 
Luna  lifted  in  the  heavens  to  herald  her  own  gracious 
rising,  and  presently,  all  full  and  soft  the  tender 
smile  of  Night's  white  queen  uncurtained  to  the 
world,  and  the  glamour  of  it  stole  along,  past  and 
ahead  of  them,  to  wash  with  sweet  enchantment  all 
the  eerie  reaches  of  the  whispering  river,  and  to 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          243 

break  in  dim  auroras  on  all  the  elfin  outlines  of  the 
spectre  ships  at  anchor. 

The  new  light  enabled  the  voyagers  to  judge 
better  what  vessel  appeared  most  suitable  to  steer 
for,  but  it  was  not  till  they  had  passed  the  port 
that  lolyn  at  length  decided.  Here,  farthest  down 
the  river  and  well  over  to  the  Cheshire  shore,  was  a 
good  sized  coasting  smack,  bearing  no  sign  of  life. 

"  Aye,"  commented  Ned,  as  they  pointed  for  her 
quarter;  "but  keep  a  pistol  handy,  for  they'll 
tumble  up  from  below  like  whelps  from  a  wisket 
(basket)." 

As  they  came  close  enough,  however,  lolyn  read 
the  name,  "  Myvanwy.  Rhuddlan,"  and  he  felt 
at  once  that  the  thing  was  half  done.  "  She's 
Welsh,  and  no  Welsh  skipper  will  refuse  us,  I 
know." 

Nevertheless,  hardly  had  they  leaped  aboard,— 
Ned  with  a  looped  line  to  drop  over  the  nearest  be- 
laying pin, — than  a  great  shaggy  head  with  a  forked 
red  beard  popped  up  from  the  cabin  hatch. 

One  glance  and  then  the  captain's  body  followed 
as  he  sprang  nimbly  up  with  a  drawn  knife  in  his 
hand  and  a  furious  "  Cotsplut ! "  choking  out 
through  his  hairy  lips. 

But    lolyn    was   already   well    into    a   speech    in 


244         FOR   THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARXO 

Welsh.  "  Ah!  Shon  Goch!  then  I've  found  you  at 
last.  Diaoul !  but  I've  been  looking  for  you  all 
along  the  river.  I  wanted  a  passage  to  Rhuddlan 
and  here  you  have  very  nearly  missed  this  tide. 
Still,  if  you  brisk  about  a  bit ;  lively ! — but  give  me 
your  hand,  Shon  Goch."  * 

This  guess  at  the  name,  safe  enough  in  view  of 
that  red  shock  of  hair  and  beard,  worked  like 
magic.  The  tone  helped  also,  and  the  captain 
stopped  short,  his  knife  lowered,  as  he  answered 
in  a  relieved  voice,  "Splut!  I  thought  you  were 
river-pirates.  But  I  don't  remember  you." 

"  No  and  I  have  not  time  to  stop  and  explain. 
Here;  give  me  a  hand  here  to  help  our  passenger 
aboard.  He  is  sore  wounded  and  we  want  to  get 
him  home  to  his  own  country." 

"  Och!  and  how  did  he  get  his  hurt  ? "  said  Shon 
Goch  pityingly. 

'  Under  the  white  cockade.  That  is  why  I  came 
to  you,  for  it  is  well  known  that  you  love  the  White 
Rose  of  Arno." 

"  Och,  sure!  and  of  what  family  is  he  ?" 

"  Meredith  of  Presgwyn." 

"  Presgwyn !  that  is  enough.  And  we'll  have  him 
down  to  my  cabin  at  once.  So,  gently  now. 

*  Shon  Goch  =  John  the  Red. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          245 

Steady;  steady,"  for  lolyn  was  already  lifting  the 
burden  over  the  rail  where  Ned  and  the  Captain 
stood  ready  to  receive  it. 

Hardly  was  Meredith  laid  gently  in  the  bunk  than 
Shon  Goch  was  back  on  deck,  swearing  and  brisk- 
ing about  as  he  ordered  his  crew  of  two  men  to  be 
lively  in  getting  under  weigh.  The  two  rushed  to 
get  up  the  anchor,  while  Ned  lent  a  hand  to  the 
Captain  at  the  halyards,  and  the  clank  of  capstan 
and  the  whimper  of  sheaves  were  like  music  to 
lolyn's  impatience. 

Then  he  jumped  to  take  the  skipper's  place  with 
Ned,  in  order  that  Shon  might  lash  the  tiller  before 
he  sprang  away  to  hoist  the  jib,  with  a  torrent  of 
hearty  profanity  which  told  how  much  his  heart  was 
in  the  work. 

All  in  a  moment,  as  it  seemed,  the  anchor  came 
dripping,  muddy,  up;  the  captain  was  back  at  the 
tiller;  the  jib  caught ;  the  great  brown  belly  of  the 
mainsail  filled,  and  the  smack  swung  away  on  the 
heel  of  her  own  shadow  as  sweetly  as  my  lady  moves 
in  the  minuet,  while  lolyn  heaved  a  great  sigh  of 
relief  as  he  muttered  to  himself,  "  I've  cheated  you 
this  time ;  Gwgan  Maddox.  And  as  soon  as  Pres- 
gwyn  is  well  again  I'll  cheat  you  once  and  for  all — 
I'll  cheat  you  of  life  itself." 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

FROM  the  short  chill  days  of  December,  when 
Shon  Goch  steered  the  "  Myvanwy  "  out  of  Liver- 
pool, till  well  along  into  April,  Meredith  lay  at 
guess  betwixt  life  and  death,  lolyn  alternating  the 
while  betwixt  hope  and  fear,  despite  the  unshaken 
dictum  of  Ned  that,  "  th'  lad  "  would  pull  through. 
"  If  thou'd  seen  him  as  Aw  seen  him  first,  thou'd 
ne'er  gi'e  him  up  agen  till  he're  buried,"  Ned  would 
retort  to  all  spoken  forebodings. 

The  case,  too,  was  made  all  the  worse  by  the 
need  for  constant  change  of  hiding  places  during 
the  first  three  months.  On  the  morning  when, 
upon  the  swell  of  the  tide,  the  smack  came  calmly 
up  to  Rhuddlan,  lolyn  had  made  no  more  ado  but 
boldly  claimed  asylum  for  his  charge  at  Bodel- 
wyddan.  Bodelwyddan  himself,  near  kinsman  to 
Wynstay,  had  answered  by  immediately  coming 
down,  "  horse,  foot,  and  dragoons  "  as  Ned  phrased 
it,  to  carry  the  wounded  man  across  the  flat  to  a  snug 
chamber  of  his  house,  and  here  for  a  full  month 
Meredith  bode,  mending  a  little  on  the  whole. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE  OF  ARNO         247 

But  on  a  day  one  came  from  Rhuddlan  with  a 
copy  of  the  proclamation  there  stuck  up ;  a  procla- 
mation which  offered  no  less  than  a  thousand  guin- 
eas for  the  capture  of  Ithel  and  lolyn,  together  with 
a  free  pardon  to  any  person  hitherto  aiding  and 
abetting  or  concealing  them. 

Ned  grinned  sardonically  when  he  heard  the 
news.  "  Aw  see  now  why  yon  Chapel  were  so  keen 
o'  catchin'  Meredith.  He'd  ha'  paid  us  fifty  pound 
and  then  pocketed  t'other.  By  th'  mass!  Aw'm  ill 
off  'at  Aw  didno'  punce  him  to  t'dyeth  when  Aw 
were  on  th'  job.  Aw  could  like  some  weel  to  see 
him.  Yigh,  he'd  be  as  welcome  as  t'flowers  i' 
May.  Aw'd  rive  his  dal'd  yed  off:  him  an'  his 
chettin'  us.  Th'  Narker  desarved  shootin'  for 
havin'  no  moor  wit  (sense)  than  lettin'  hissel'  be 
getten  o'er  by  a  skimp-skump  of  a  cockney." 

To  have  been  made  a  catspaw  of  by  Chapel 
roused  Ned's  ire  to  a  degree  totally  unusual  with 
him.  No  man  likes  to  be  done  down  in  his  own 
especial  line ;  least  of  all  such  a  stubborn  craftsman 
as  he  of  the  Clough. 

Then  lolyn  made  it  worse.  "  Nay,  Ned,  it  was 
not  John  Chapel  who  would  have  gotten  any  great 
sum,  but  the  man  he  worked  for — that  is,  if  there 
was  any  great  sum  to  be  made.  Chapel  was  not 


248          FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

doing  his  own  errand,  but  working  for  a  wage  that 
another  doled  out  to  him.  It  is  this  other,  too, 
who  got  this  price  put  upon  us." 

"  Oh!  "  returned  Ned,  still  more  hot.  "  By  th' 
mass,  that's  wor'  nor  t'other.  This  new  mon 
didno'  even  tak'  Chapel's  risk.  Dal!  my  fingers 
fair  itch  to  throttle  him!  Ecod!  Aw'm  wantin'  to 
clap  een  on  this  new  boggart!  "  (apparition,  ghost.) 

"  And  he  wants  to  see  you  if  I  am  not  mistaken," 
answered  lolyn.  "  It  is  my  belief  that  he  counted 
on  you  when  he  had  that  pardon  put  in  to  anyone 
who  had  helped  us  but  would  betray  us  now.  He 
thought  a  thousand  guineas  would  fetch  you  at 
once." 

"  An'  art  ta  none  unyezzy  ?  (uneasy)  "  returned 
Ned  sarcastically. 

"  He  may  multiply  the  thousand  by  twenty  and 
then  I  shall  not  be  uneasy.  If  I  had  thought  you 
were  that  kind  of  a  man  I  should  have  put  the 
bidogan  through  you  long  ago,"  said  lolyn  content- 
edly. 

"Ho!  that's  if  Aw'd  letten  thee:  if  Aw  hadno' 
punced  thee  to  t'dyeth  first,"  retorted  the  other 
genially.  "  But  thou'rt  reet,  lad;  Aw've  done  wi' 
that  mak'  o"  wark  now.  Aw've  gan'  that  trade  up 
for  good.  Aw  s'  do  no  moor  on  't." 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          249 

"  That  is  exactly  what  Chapel's  master  reckons 
on.  He  thinks  you  would  jump  at  this  chance  of 
cutting  loose  from  that.  With  the  free  pardon 
you  would  have  also  a  fortune  to  begin  life  with 
again.  Just  what  he  calculates  upon." 

"  Does  he?  Then  he's  off  his  horse.  Even  if  Aw 
were  still  stickin'  to  th'  owd  job  Aw'd  get  my 
brass  i'  my  own  way:  Aw'd  ha'  nought  gan  me  i' 
onybody  else's  way.  My  own  road  or  none.  But 
Aw  didno'  myen  (mean)  'at  Aw're  done  wi'  hidin' 
an'  sich  like.  What  Aw  myent  were  'at  Aw'd 
done  wi'  harmin'  other  folk.  It's  none  worth  while 
to  live  that  gate,  and  if  there's  naught  else,  then 
when  this  business  is  o'er  an'  th'  lad's  getten  weel 
agen,  Aw'll  go  back  to  wheer  Aw  were  born,  aye,  if 
Aw  ha'  to  wortch  at  weighvin'  for  a  livin'." 

If  I  hear  any  more  of  your  work  and  your 
weaving,  then  you'll  hear  a  din,"  retorted  lolyn. 
'  You  have  to  share  with  me,  for  I've  got  some- 
thing; enough  to  keep  the  two  of  us  going  at  any 
rate.  And  that  is  beside  what  Meredith  will  expect 
of  you  when  he  comes  round  again." 

"  Oh!  "  Ned  looked  at  him  steadily  for  a  minute 
or  two.  Then,  "Aw'd  like  to  ha'  a  nice,  quiet, 
gradely  feight  wi'  thee,  lad.  But  happen  tha 
wouldno'  just  reetly  understand  Lancashire  ways — 


250        FOR  THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

so  Aw  think  Aw'll  tak'  a  bit  of  a  smooke  i'  th' 
stead,"  ended  he,  charging  his  pipe  with  slow 
deliberation. 

But  though  lolyn  was  so  free  of  doubt  of  Ned, 
yet  he  fully  understood  the  altered  aspect  of  things 
caused  by  this  proclamation.  All  the  country  knew 
that  they  were  at  Bodelwyddan ;  a  chance  word 
might  ruin  them,  therefore  they  must  shift  their 
quarters.  He  knew  the  difficulty  there  would  be  in 
persuading  Bodelwyddan  himself  to  this,  and  so  he 
took  advantage  of  that  gentleman's  absence  from 
home  on  a  hunting  day,  and,  pretending  sudden 
danger,  got  his  charge  carried  away  to  Garthewin, 
leaving  behind  all  manner  of  apologies. 

This  necessary  move  across  the  brown  shoulder 
of  Moelfre  Isa',  to  the  foot  of  its  sister,  Moelfre 
Ucha',  threw  the  wounded  man  back,  and  hardly 
had  he  more  than  recovered  when  a  search  on  the 
upper  Elwy  drove  them  down  to  Dolben  for  new 
shelter.  Then  move  upon  move,  until  at  length  the 
beginning  of  April  saw  them  back  a  second  time  at 
Dolben,  where  Meredith  so  gained  in  strength  that 
when,  in  May,  a  final  party  of  dragoons  made  search 
along  the  Elwy,  he  could  first  lie  out  for  a  few 
hours  and  then  be  taken  across  and  hidden  in  the 
great  cave  of  the  Cefn  in  front  of  the  house. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         2$l 

Here  they  stayed  till  June  was  leafy  over  the  land, 
and  here  they  were  when  there  came  a  letter  to 
hand, — brought  by  Peake  of  Perthewig,  who  had 
been  on  a  jaunt  to  Chester — a  letter  which  made 
lolyn  turn  sullen  and  Ned  grin. 

They  had  heard  of  Pengraig's  capture  during  their 
stay  at  Bodelwyddan  and  had  heard  also  that  his 
wife  and  daughter  had  instantly  journeyed  to  Lon- 
don in  order  to  do  what  they  could  for  him. 

lolyn  had  then  found  means  to  let  him  know  of 
Meredith's  escape  and  present  condition.  He  did 
not  name  the  place  where  they  were  sheltering,  for 
fear  of  the  letter  falling  into  wrong  hands,  and  so 
was  not  greatly  surprised  at  receiving  a  passionate 
appeal  from  Mari,  beseeching  him  to  let  her  know 
their  hiding  place,  that  she  might  come  and  nurse 
the  man  she  loved. 

"  Exactly,"  was  lolyn's  comment.  "  Just  like  a 
woman  !  She  would  come  posting  up  here  with  all 
the  medicines  and  half  the  doctors  in  London,  so 
that  the  whole  army  could  follow  and  nab  us,  for  all 
she  would  dream  of  harm.  But  I'll  write  again  as 
though  I  hadn't  received  her  letter,  and  perhaps 
Ithel  will  be  well  enough  to  move  by  the  time  her 
next  appeal  comes.  Once  he  can  mount  and  ride, 
then  I  don't  mind  her  coming,  for  we  can  give  any 


252          FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

spies  the  slip  and  there's  always  Snowdon  to  fall 
back  upon." 

But  when  her  next  letter  did  arrive,  they  were  at 
Dolben  the  first  time,  and  Meredith  was  far  indeed 
from  being  well  enough  to  mount  and  ride.  This 
time  then  he  put  his  comment  on  paper  as  an 
answer  to  her  letter,  and  was  more  astonished  than 
Ned  when,  in  her  reply,  she  bewildered  him  with 
reproaches.  She  did  not  want  to  wait  till  Ithel 
could  ride;  then  she  would  only  be  a  burden  and  an 
added  danger  to  him.  She  wanted  to  come  now, 
while  he  was  ill  and  helpless  and  needed  a  woman's 
care.  In  her  heat  she  said  that  she  would  not  come 
later  if  she  were  not  allowed  to  come  now.  And  so 
on,  etc. 

Another  set  of  letters  passed  between  them  and 
then  came  this  one  which  put  lolyn  out  and  made 
Ned's  tongue  take  wondrous  edge  as  he  alternately 
made  a  grim  jest  at  the  other's  consternation,  or 
apostrophised  nothing  in  particular. 

Mari  had  arrived  at  Chester,  having  come  by  sea, 
and  now  from  the  house  of  one  of  Meredith's  kin 
had  despatched  a  last  and  most  pathetic  appeal. 

Her  father  had  not  yet  been  tried,  she  said,  but 
his  trial  could  not  much  longer  be  delayed,  and 
both  her  love  and  duty  demanded  that  she  should 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         253 

be  in  London  to  help  and  sustain  him  when  he 
should  be  finally  brought  to  the  bar.  But  mean- 
while she  was  racked  with  anxious  grief  for  Ithel, 
who,  she  had  come  to  fear,  was  slowly  dying. 
Why  was  the  answer  to  her  letter  always  the  same  ? 
Why  was  it  always  hoped  that  Ithel  would  be  well 
enough  to  write  presently,  and  then  why  did  that 
presently  never  arrive  ?  Alas !  she  had  begun  to 
feel  that  the  man  she  loved  was  either  dying  or 
already  dead.  How  should  a  man,  however  se- 
verely wounded,  lie  so  long  in  such  desperate  case? 
Either  he  would  be  recovered  to  some  extent  in  six 
months,  or  he  must  be  surely  dying — which  last 
was  by  far  the  most  probable  case  with  one  who 
had  to  be  moved  continually  through  a  wild  country. 
Her  grief  had  preyed  upon  her  so  that  even  her 
father  had  consented  to  her  present  journey,  and  all 
spies  had  been  baffled  by  her  secretly  and  suddenly 
taking  ship  and  coming  by  sea.  And  now  all  that 
she  wanted  was  one  sight  of  Ithel  to  assure  her  he 
was  yet  alive — for  handwriting  might  be  simulated, 
and  moreover  she  had  never  seen  his  handwriting. 
She  would  do  anything;  she  would  go  anywhere  and 
though  any  discomfort,  hardship,  or  peril  which 
lolyn  might  deem  necessary;  she  would  submit  to 
any  wretchedness  and  adopt  any  disguise  he  might 


254-          FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

think  fit,  only  she  prayed  him  by  all  that  could 
move  him  to  grant  her  one  sight  of  Ithel ;  to  ease 
her  load  thus  far,  and  then  she  would  go  back  with 
new  strength  and  courage  to  comfort  and  sustain 
her  father,  whose  position  must  so  strongly  appeal 
to  lolyn  as  well  as  herself. 

The  terms  she  used  were  far  more  potent  than  the 
brief  summary  here  set  down  :  they  were  as  moving 
as  a  woman's  heart  in  such  a  terrible  position  could 
pour  forth  in  pathetic  appeal  to  one  who  had  power 
to  grant  or  withhold  the  dearest  boon  of  life. 

And  they  moved  lolyn. 

Ithel  had  already  been  told,  a  month  ago,  o.f  all 
the  correspondence,  and  had,  some  ten  days  since, 
himself  written  a  long  and  loving  letter  of  assurance 
to  Mari  in  London.  To  this,  therefore,  he  was  now 
awaiting  an  answer,  with  what  impatience  may  be 
judged  when  it  is  remembered  that  he  was  both  a 
sick  man  and  a  lover.  He  had  no  means  of  know- 
ing that  she  had  left  London  before  his  letter  arrived, 
and  in  the  ordinary  course  could  not  expect  an 
answer  for  three  weeks  or  so  yet.  All  the  same, 
however,  he  was  dreaming  of  nothing  else,  by  day 
or  night,  and  now  he  instantly  divined  that  lolyn 
had  heard  news  of  Mari. 

Nor  could  lolyn  withhold  the  letter,  though  he 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          255 

well  knew  that  Ithel's  first  words  would  be  a  half 
command,  half  entreaty,  to  bring  Mari  through  at 
once. 

Ned  was  no  support.  "  It's  no  use  sayin'  aught 
to  a  woman  if  hoo's  (she's)  set  her  mind.  It's  no 
use  to  tell  her  hoo'll  get  us  o'  hanged:  hoo'll  come 
o'  th'  same,  an'  then  when  we  are  o'  hanged  of 
a  row,  like  three  crows  in  a  field,  hoo'll  skrike 
hersel'  to  t'  dyeth,  and  co'  hersel'  names,  an' 
then  drown  hersel'  i'  th'  nearest  water — but  we's 
still  be  hangin'  up  like  bacon  flitches,  for  o'  that. 
Tha  mun  go,  lad;  there's  naught  else  for  it.  There 
is  a  chance  o'  thee  fottin'  (fetching)  her  through 
bout  being  discovered,  while  if  tha*  does  no'go,  then 
hoo'll  come  bout  thee,  and  th'  spies'll  follow  her 
like  pack  gals  (galloways;  pack  horses)  followin'  a 
bell." 

"  Oh  yes,"  returned  lolyn  discontentedly,  "  but 
there's  a  proverb  of  your  own  that  fits  you  now: 
'Talk's  cheap,  but  it  takes  money  to  buy  beer.' 
And  the  same  here.  If  this  had  happened  when  we 
were  at  your  old  place  in  the  forest  you  would  have 
figured  up  the  consequences,  and  hum'd,  and  haw'd, 
and  weighed  and  balanced,  and  offset,  till  one  would 
well  nigh  have  forgotten  what  the  debate  was  about. 
Of  course  you  were  captain  there,  but  still— 


256         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO 

"An*  thou'rt  captain  here,"  put  in  Ned  with 
a  grin;  "an'  Aw'm  takkin'  no  weight  o'  my 
shoothers.  Dal !  lad,  thou  wouldno'  believe  how 
nice  it  is  to  none  ha'  to  think  what  next,  and  no'but 
to  keep  ready  to  feight  if  need  be.  Why  mon,  Aw 
feel  as  leet  i'  th'  heels  as  a  two  year  owd  cowt." 

"  Aye,  but  in  your  old  forest  den  you  would 
make  every  man  help  you  with  his  counsel  and  here 
you  will  not  even  think,  much  less  come  to  coun- 
sel." 

"  Counsel,"  repeated  Ned  satirically.  "  Coun- 
sel about  a  woman !  Dal !  Aw'm  no  scholar  but 
Aw've  moor  wit  nor  that.  A  mon  con  do  naught 
wi'  a  woman  unless  he's  i'  love  wi'  her,  an'  then  he 
con  do  aught  he  will — if  he  is  a  mon — for  if  hoo's  i' 
love  wi'  him  i'  return  hoo'll  do  it  for  love,  an'  if 
hoo's  not,  then  hoo'll  do  it  for  pity.  Now  Ithel's 
th'  one  'at's  i'  love  wi'  her,  an'  thou  connot  ax  him 
to  tell  her  not  to  come,  for  he's  like  another  mon 
o'ready,  just  wi'  thinkin'  'at  hoo's  comin'.  Moor- 
o'er,  if  hoo  does  come  it'll  be  just  what  he  wanted 
to  set  him  up,  an'  i'  th'  inside  o'  two  days  he'll  be 
wantin'  to  feight  wi'  somebody,  he'll  be  so  fain  of 
hissel'." 

'  Then  you  think  I  should  go  ? "  said  lolyn  im- 
patiently. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         257 

"  What  arta'  short  on  ?  brass  ?  Aw  ha'  some 
coppers  left,"  returned  Ned,  with  a  wooden  grin. 

And  between  this  cold  comfort  of  Ned's  and  the 
eager  appeals  of  Ithel,  lolyn  was  forced  to  give  way 
and  start  the  same  day  for  Chester. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

MARI  was  fully  confident  that  in  coming  by  sea 
she  had  outwitted  all  pursuit,  but  she  had  not 
fully  gauged  the  desperate  hatred  of  Maddox. 
As  soon  as  he  discovered  for  certain  that  she  had 
left  London,  he  started  John  Chapel  and  a  select 
band  of  Old  Bailey  runners  to  Chester;  which  city 
was  to  be  the  headquarters  whence  they  were  to 
spread  over  all  North  Wales. 

Chapel  himself  remained  within  the  walls  of  the 
city,  like  a  spider  in  his  web,  the  centre  of  a  net- 
work of  spies.  He  kept  two  of  the  best  men  with 
him  as  a  sort  of  body-guard,  in  case  any  of  the 
Welsh  in  the  street  should  recognise  him  as  having 
been  servant  to  Maddox  at  Wynstay.  It  was  not 
his  outward  appearance  which  he  feared  might  be- 
tray him;  the  scars  from  Ned's  clogs  and  lolyn's 
sword  hilt  insured  his  face,  aided  further  by  a  com- 
plete change  of  wig  and  clothing;  but  he  knew  well 
enough  that,  in  any  moment  of  sudden  excitement, 
his  voice  would  set  forth  his  identity  plain  as  a 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         2 $9 

printed  writ  to  anyone  who  had  ever  heard  it  be- 
fore. Therefore  in  taking  the  air  he  confined 
himself  to  the  top  of  the  City  Walls,  where  he  was 
not  likely  to  encounter  either  casual  Welsh  country- 
folk or  drunken  brawlers,  the  one  to  recognise  or 
the  other  to  provoke  him. 

His  favourite  stretch  of  the  wall  was  from  the 
Watergate  to  the  Castle,  where  he  could  overlook 
the  green  Roodee  with  the  placid  stretch  of  river 
where  in  those  days  the  ships  came  calmly  up  from 
the  coasts  of  the  outer  seas.  Here  then,  on  the 
third  day  after  his  arrival,  he  was  leaning  upon  the 
battlements  of  the  Watergate,  conning  the  chances 
and  cursing  the  delay,  as  with  an  idle  eye  he  watched 
a  sail  almost  as  idle  reaching  up  the  river.  Then 
suddenly  his  chin  stuck  out  ever  so  little  and  his 
eyebrows  brushed  together  to  hide  the  steely  gleam 
of  suspicion  which  shot  from  beneath  them.  From 
behind  that  idle  ship,  a  boat,  making  believe  to  be 
even  more  idle,  drew  shoreward  to  land  three  people 
on  the  Roodee. 

"  Now  that's  somebody  wanting  to  appear  as  if 
they  were  just  people  from  the  city,  out  a  pleasur- 
ing and  now  coming  home.  But  they  are  from 
that  ship,  and  ships  don't  land  passengers  there :  it's 
either  higher  up  or  lower  down  when  all  is  fair  and 


260          FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

shiplike.  I'm  going  to  watch  these  pretty  passen- 
gers," thought  John  Chapel  to  himself. 

He  never  took  his  eyes  off  the  party  as  they 
paced,  in  a  would-be  casual  manner,  across  the  flat 
towards  him.  "  H'm!  coming  in  through  this  very 
Watergate,"  said  he  mentally. 

"One  man;  ship's  captain  by  the  cut  of  him. 
Got  his  shore  clothes  on :  gold  lace,  no  doubt,  and 
all  green  and  brown  with  snuff  and  rum  and  sea- 
water  I'll  warrant.  And  he's  doing  the  gallant  to 
a  couple  of  unprotected  female  passengers:  that's 
plain.  Queer  set  out  altogether.  H'm." 

Then  as  they  came  nearer,  his  shoulders  mo.ved. 
"  I  think;  oh,  I  think  that  I've  met  you  before,  my 
pretty  little  dear,"  whined  he  under  his  breath, 
apostrophising  the  taller  figure  of  the  two  women. 
In  another  five  minutes  they  were  come  within 
twenty  yards  of  the  gate,  and  looking  down,  he 
made  no  further  doubt.  "  Oho  !  "  he  began  in  a  low 
.whispering  singsong  to  himself,  "so  it  is  you,  my 
dainty  little  mistress  Mari!  Oho!  with  your  wim- 
ple, and  your  fine  clothes  all  altered  and  changed. 
You  thought  you  had  disguised  your  handsome 
self  so  cleverly  with  those  clothes,  and  your  dear 
little  face  with  that  mask  and  those  patches.  It 
never  occurred  to  you  that  a  man  recognises  a 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          261 

woman  by  her  shape  and  carriage  more  than  by 
all  else.  Look  you,  look  you,  my  charmer!  there, 
that  one  little  movement  of  the  head  and  hand  as 
you  turn  to  speak  to  that  sea  porpoise  of  a  captain 
is  quite  enough  to  betray  you  among  a  thousand 
others.  Oho !  my  dearest  mistress  Mari.  Do 
come  on ;  please  enter  and  honour  this  poor  city 
with  your  most  charming  presence.  Don't  hesi- 
tate: that's  it;  enter — and  then;  you'll  lead  me 
straight  to  that  lolyn  who  knocked  me  out  of  the 
saddle  and  that  sweet  Ned  that  kicked  me  within 
an  inch  of  my  life;  the  little  dears." 

As  she  passed  under  the  gateway  he  turned  to 
the  nearest  of  his  two  men.  "  Forey;  follow  the 
tallest  of  those  two  women.  Follow  her  and  don't 
let  her  slip;  no  matter  what  happens — that's  the 
woman  we've  come  here  to  watch. 

"And  you,  Wanlon,"  he  continued  to  the  other; 
"  you  come  with  me.  I  want  you  to  start  straight 
away  for  London  and  carry  the  news  to  Mr.  Mad- 
dox.  Tell  him  that  I've  found  the  girl  here  and 
say  that  he'd  better  come  as  fast  as  he  possibly 
can.  Come  now,"  and  with  the  last  word  he 
started  down  the  steps  for  the  street  and  their 
lodging. 

And   meanwhile    Mari    passed   on    to    the    house 


262         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

where  she  was  to  stay,  and  when  she  was  shown 
into  the  room  which  was  to  be  hers,  felt  a  great  ela- 
tion, even  through  her  sadness,  as  she  thought 
of  how  cleverly  she  had  eluded  Maddox  and  his 
spies. 

Her  letter  was  written  next  day  and  straightway 
went  to  the  nearest  member  of  the  Cycle,  but  it 
was  not  till  the  last  of  June  that  lolyn  received  it, 
and  it  was  on  the  evening  of  that  day  that  he  rode 
into  Chester,  dressed  like  a  hillside  farmer,  and  with 
an  empty  pillion  behind  him. 

Full  of  impotent  discontent,  his  greeting  was  as 
little  orthodox  as  hers,  who  was  so  full  of  gnawing 
anxiety. 

"  Do  you  still  stick  to  your  notion  ?"  demanded 
he. 

"  Oh,  tell  me,  is  he  still  living  ?"  exclaimed  she 
in  the  same  breath. 

"  Of  course  he  is  living,"  retorted  he.  "  Why, 
he  has  been  sitting  up  these  ten  days  " — letting  out 
more  than  he  intended.  "  But  I  can't  take  you  out 
there.  Why,  the  spies — 

"  Now,  lolyn,  dear,  you  are  not  going  to  argue 
with  me  about  that  " — she  had  taken  his  arm  in  her 
two  hands  and  was  gazing  into  his  irritably  flicker- 
ing eyes  with  a  look  he  could  not  deny.  "  I  will 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         263 

not  listen  to  you  if  you  do.  I  know  very  well  that 
you  would  never  have  come  in  to  Chester  unless  you 
meant  to  take  me  back  with  you.  Why,  dear,  I 
know  already  that  you  rode  with  a  pillion  saddle : 
so  you  see  " — and  a  little  smile  broke  through  the 
pleading  of  her  face  as  she  saw  his  lips  part  for  a 
hasty  denial. 

But  the  words  did  not  come ;  instead  he  laughed 
a  short  laugh ;  sharp,  may  be,  but  still  a  laugh  and 
she  read  her  victory  in  it. 

A  single  minute  had  finally  settled  the  point,  and 
five  more  sufficed  to  arrange  the  plan  of  carrying 
it  out.  It  had  been  about  eight  o'clock,  that  is, 
within  half  an  hour  of  sunset  when  lolyn  entered 
Chester;  but  the  last  of  the  great  disc  of  molten 
gold  was  hardly  down  behind  the  indigo  mass  of  the 
Moels,  when  through  the  Bridge  Gate  and  across 
the  Dee  there  passed  a  pair  on  horseback;  nowise 
particularly  to  be  distinguished  from  any  pair  of  a 
hundred  already  gone  that  way  since  morning. 

lolyn,  in  the  nondescript  garments  of  a  hillside 
farmer,  was  bestriding  the  stout  Powys  nag — whose 
steadiness  did  not  prevent  his  possessing  both  pace 
and  bottom — while  Mari,  riding  a-pillion  behind  him 
with  one  arm  round  his  waist,  was  scarlet  cloaked 
and  beaver  hatted,  shoulder  shawled,  frill  capped, 


264          FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

and  linsey  kirtled,  like  any  hillside  wife  in  her  fair- 
going  best. 

Once  across  the  river  the  nag  was  headed  for 
Mold  and  as  they  went  lolyn  kept  his  eyes  alive 
for  possible  spies  and  trackers.  All  that  he  saw, 
however,  was  one  woman  riding  alone  a  couple  of 
hundred  yards  in  rear,  with  nothing  noticeable 
about  her  save  that  her  horse  seemed  a  bid  above 
the  common  farm-wife's  cob.  He  drew  no  inference 
from  the  goodness  of  her  mount  however,  until, 
having  passed  through  Broughton  and  noticed  that 
she  still  kept  the  same  distance  behind,  he  bent  a 
closer  scrutiny  upon  her  through  the  dusk  and,  as 
she  passed  a  roadside  cottage,  saw  the  gleam  from 
its  window  light  up  a  steel  stirrup  swinging  upon 
the  off  side  of  her  saddle. 

"That  is  a  good  horse  to  belong  to  a  man  who 
cannot  afford  a  side  saddle  for  his  wife,"  said  lolyn 
mentally. 

Ruminating  upon  this  he  presently  discerned  a 
light  ahead  of  him  and,  coming  at  length  abreast 
of  it,  saw  that  it  proceeded  from  a  low  hedge  ale- 
house. A  sudden  plan  struck  him.  "We  will 
light  down  here  for  a  few  moments,"  whispered  he 
to  Mari. 

"Wrap  up  your  face  as  though  you  had  the  face- 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         265 

ache  and  then  follow  me  in  and  let  me  do  the 
talking." 

Dismounting  by  throwing  his  leg  across  in  front 
of  him,  he  helped  Mari  down  from  the  pillion,  and, 
after  hitching  his  horse  to  the  shutter  catch  of  the 
window — where  he  could  command  it  with  a  pistol 
from  the  inside — led  the  way  within.  Simulating  a 
half  tipsy  voice  he  called  loudly  for  a  jug  of  hot 
ale. 

"Hot  ale?"  repeated  the  keeper  of  the  house. 
"What  do  you  want  with  hot  ale  in  June  ? " 

"None  of  your  business!  "  retorted  lolyn.  Then, 
as  if  thinking  better  of  it.  "  But  I'll  tell  you. 
Can't  you  see  that  my  sister  here  has  a  bad  face- 
ache?  And  don't  you  know  that  there  is  nothing 
like  mulled  ale  for  that  ? " 

"  Och!  "  assented  the  aleman,  as  he  disappeared 
to  obey. 

As  soon  as  he  was  gone,  lolyn  set  a  seat  for  Mari 
in  the  shadow,  while  he  himself  dangled  one  leg 
from  the  table  betwixt  her  and  the  observation  of 
anyone  who  might  enter. 

Presently,  as  he  had  expected,  he  heard  a  horse 
halt  outside  and  a  moment  after  in  came  the 
woman  who  had  followed  them  ;  walking  with  a  sus- 
piciously awkward  stride.  She  sat  herself  down  on 


266         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

the  spere  *  at  the  opposite  cheek  of  the  chimney  to 
Mari,  evidently  choosing  that  spot  so  that  her  face 
might  be  in  the  shadow  cast  by  the  hanging  lantern, 
which  gave  but  a  smoky  light  at  best. 

lolyn  was  just  on  the  point  of  opening  a  jesting 
conversation  with  her  when  the  ale  entered,  hot 
and  smelling  delicious.  He  changed  his  opening. 
"  Sit  down  and  take  a  drink  with  us,"  said  he  to 
the  aleman,  while  he  filled  four  mugs  with  the 
liquid.  "  But  first  hand  this  pretty  blue  mug  to 
my  sweetheart  there  in  the  corner;  she  just  came  in 
as  you  went  out." 

As  the  woman  received  the  gift  she  nodded  her 
thanks  and  smiled  sheepishly.  Then  the  aleman 
took  a  second  mug  and  sat  down  at  the  other  end 
of  the  spere  from  her,  while  lolyn  bowled  out  for 
himself  and  Mari.  Just  as  he  was  about  to  lift  and 
lead  the  quaffing,  however,  a  sudden  further  spasm 
of  half  tipsy  generosity  seemed  to  seize  him.  In 
those  days  a  lump  of  sugar  was  a  rare  delicacy, 
and  accordingly  he  had,  at  a  great  expenditure, 
procured  a  small  quantity  wherewith  to  tickle  Mere- 
dith's palate  on  his  return.  But  now,  setting  down 
his  cup,  "  Wait  a  bit !  "  he  cried,  as  he  pulled  the 

*  A  wooden  bench  with  a  back  reaching  sometimes  a  height  of  six 
feet  and  sometimes  on  up  to  the  ceiling. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         267 

precious  package  from  his  coat  pocket.  "  Here  is 
something  to  put  velvet  in  the  ale.  Sugar!  that  is 
the  thing:  we'll  all  have  sugar  in  our  ale.  Here, 
catch!  "  ended  he,  tossing  a  small  piece  to  the  man 
of  the  house. 

The  man  instinctively  brought  his  knees  together 
to  prevent  the  dainty  dropping  between  them  to  the 
floor.  He  caught  it. 

"Now  you,  sweetheart;  catch  also,"  went  on 
lolyn,  tossing  a  second  piece  to  the  woman — and  in 
the  shadow  he  saw  her  bring  her  knees  together  in 
the  same  convulsive  manner  as  the  man, 

lolyn's  face  gathered  a  flicker  of  excitement. 

Taking  out  another  piece,  "  Here,"  said  he  again; 
"  a  man  should  give  his  sweetheart  double  of  all 
good  things.  Catch  this  too." 

Again  the  woman  closed  her  knees  to  catch  and 
lolyn  turned  swiftly  to  Mari  in  order  to  hide  the 
flash  he  could  not  keep  out  of  his  eyes.  Then  in  a 
gentle  tone;  "and  here,  to  you  also,  sister. 
Catch!" 

He  smiled  outright;  a  smile  like  the  flicker  of  a 
sword  in  firelight,  as  he  saw  her  spread  her  knees 
with  easy  movement,  so  as  to  offer  a  wider  lap  to 
catch  the  toothsome  fragment. 

He  did  not  waste  any  more  of  his  package  upon 


268          FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

himself  but  straightway  lifted  his  mug.  "  Here  is 
to  my  sweetheart  in  the  nook  of  the  spere,"  quoth 
he  as  he  took  a  long  pull  of  the  beverage,  winking  the 
while  at  the  landlord  with  a  tigerish  facetiousness. 

Setting  down  his  own  mug  he  turned  to  Mari  who 
had  barely  tasted.  Affecting  surprise,  "  Why,  your 
face  must  be  bad  indeed  if  you  can't  drink  a  drop 
of  good  ale  like  that.  I  see  I  must  be  jogging  again 
and  get  you  home  to  be  looked  to." 

He  paid  the  reckoning  and  grabbed  at  the  change 
as  if  every  second  were  a  matter  of  life  and  death, 
hurrying  Mari  out  with  a  string  of  thickly  uttered 
urgings. 

"  Well,  he  is  pretty  drunk  at  any  rate,"  quoth 
the  aleman  to  himself  as  he  saw  them  go. 

They  had  barely  mounted  when  lolyn  struck  into 
a  brisk  trot,  and  before  they  had  gone  three  hun- 
dred yards  they  heard  hoof  strokes  behind  them. 
"  Hearken  to  the  hoofs,"  said  lolyn  over  his  shoul- 
der. '  There  are  two  horses  now.  I  saw  the  sec- 
ond coming  up  as  we  mounted." 

'  The  new  rider  is  a  man,"  answered  Mari.  '"  He 
came  from  Broughton.  I  saw  him  leave  the  town 
a  long  way  behind  the  woman." 

"  The  woman,"  quoth  lolyn.  "  Did  you  not 
notice  how  she  caught  the  sugar  ? " 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          269 

"  Not  particularly." 

"  Oh!  I  thought  a  woman  would  have  seen  it  at 
once.  That  woman  is  a  man  !  " 

"  A  man!  "  echoed  Mari  in  astonishment. 

"  Aye;  did  you  not  notice  how  she  closed  her  lap 
to  catch  ?  Only  a  man  does  that.  That  is  one 
man,  and  your  other  man  from  Broughton  makes  a 
pair.  They  can't  speak  Welsh  however,  for  the 
woman-man  was  only  guessing  at  my  words  when  I 
spoke;  I  could  tell  that  by  his  eyes,  and  if  the 
other  could  have  spoken  it  he  would  have  been  the 
woman.  So  they  are  spies;  Gwgan's  spies;  on  our 
track." 


CHAPTER   XXV 

THERE  was  silence  between  them  during  the  next 

few  moments,  for  the  news  had  come  with  such  a 

shock  to  Mari  that  she  was  scarcely  able  to  gather 

her  thoughts  to  meet  the  surprise.     Then  at  last, 

'  What  shall  we  do  ? "  she  asked  faintly. 

"  It  would  serve  them  right  if  I  pistolled  both; 
as  I  would  have  done  if  I  had  been  alone,"  growled 
lolyn.  "As  it  is,  we'll  give  them  the  slip;,  well 
mounted  and  all  as  they  are.  Now  listen:  the 
cross  roads  are  somewhere  not  far  ahead  and  I  know 
there  is  a  broad  place  just  this  side  where  there  is 
a  row  of  giant  beeches.  I  will  check  beneath  the 
first  tree;  there  is  a  good  turf  underfoot,  and  just 
as  they  jog  past  I'll  shock  into  them  and  roll  the 
nearest  over.  The  other  one  I'll  knock  out  of  the 
saddle  with  a  pistol — it  will  be  just  such  a  trick  all 
round  as  when  I  captured  Weir  and  Chapel." 

"  God  help  us!  "  exclaimed  Mari  involuntarily. 
'  You  will  stick  fast  to  me,"  went  on  loiyn,  as  not 
noticing  the  interruption;  "  there  will  be  no  danger 
and  nobody  hurt.      The  trick  will  be  done  before 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          2? I 

you  can  well  see  how.  I  dare  not  kill  them  because 
that  would  bring  you  into  the  proclamation,  which 
is  just  what  Maddox  would  wish,  to  make  his 
scheme  complete.  He  would  put  a  price  on  you 
too,  and  bring  you  to  the  gallows  as  his  father 
brought  my  mother." 

As  ever,  the  mention  of  his  mother  set  light  to 
his  madness  again.  But  Mari  felt  the  mighty  breath 
he  drew  in,  and  before  the  strident  yell  in  his  throat 
could  burst  forth  she  had  covered  his  mouth  with 
a  soft  firm  hand,  while  in  his  ear  she  whispered 
pleadingly,  lolyn ;  dear  lolyn,  do  not  give  way 
now.  Remember  how  it  pains  us  all  and  that  we 
have  no  one  else  but  you  to  succour  any  of  us." 

He  kept  his  lips  shut  and  his  chest  strained  full, 
every  sinew  in  his  body  set  like  iron,  till  fifty  yards 
were  passed.  Then  in  a  great  sobbing  sigh  he 
loosed  his  breath  and  she  felt  a  hot  tear  of  baffled 
rage.  "Is  my  mother  to  wander  forever?"  he 
muttered  thickly.  '  You  cannot  lay  a  ghost  ex- 
cept with  blood,  and  I  tell  you  she  cannot  sleep  till 
I  lay  her  spirit  with  the  blood  of  those  who  mur- 
dered her." 

"  But  they  are  all  dead  now,  lolyn,"  answered 
Mari  softly.  "  The  Lord  God  is  her  avenger " 

"  Aye;  but  the  Lord  God  must  use  an  instrument 


272         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

for  avenging  her,  and  I  want  to  be  that  instrument," 
broke  in  lolyn.  '  Yea,  I  tell  you — but,  hush  now; 
here  are  the  trees." 

Checking  as  he  spoke  he  walked  the  horse  into 
the  deep  shadow  of  the  first  of  a  file  of  embower- 
ing beeches,  where  the  mould  was  like  velvet  under 
the  iron  hoofs,  yielding  no  slightest  sound.  Almost 
immediately  they  heard  the  horses  behind  first 
pulled  down  to  a  heavy  walk  and  then  crowded  up 
again  to  a  sort  of  shogging  amble,  as  if  their  riders 
came  peeringly,  suspicious  from  losing  the  sound 
ahead.  lolyn  gathered  his  horse  together  with  knee 
and  rein  ready  for  a  dash;  a  long  horse  pistol 
clubbed  in  his  right  hand. 

The  other  two  came  on,  craning  forward,  and  in 
the  gloom  which  is  a  June  night  lolyn  could  see  that 
the  supposed  woman  was  on  the  farther  side  of  the 
road,  with  the  new  rider  between  himself  and  her. 
"  But  I'll  take  the  shine  off  her  beaver,"  thought 
he  to  himself  with  an  iron  grin. 

Then  they  shogged  abreast  of  him  and  with  a 
plunge  of  the  rowels  he  drove  his  horse  forward  in 
a  mighty  spring. 

So  swift,  so  sudden,  was  the  shock,  where  it 
quartered  in  behind  the  shoulder,  that  the  nearest 
nag  went  down  right  under  the  hoofs  of  the  one  be- 


FOR    THE    WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         273 

yond.  That  one  stumbled  to  its  nose  as  if  shot,  then 
reared  upright  and  plunged  wildly  away  down  the 
road,  with  its  rider  astride  of  its  withers,  scram- 
bling and  clutching  at  its  mane  in  a  frantic  endeav- 
our to  regain  the  saddle.  The  woman's  hair  and 
woman's  beaver  had  both  been  jerked  off,  exposing 
the  cropped  head  of  a  man,  while  the  string  of  gasp- 
ing curses  exploding  at  every  jump  from  the  scared 
lips  bore  unmistakeable  testimony  to  the  sex. 

As  he  went  lolyn  levelled  the  pistol  to  fire,  but 
instantly  Mari  threw  up  his  hand. 

"Don't,  lolyn,  don't  shoot!"  she  cried  implor- 
ingly. 

One  moment  he  hesitated.      "  Remember  what 
you  said  of  Maddox,"  urged  Mari  again. 

He  lowered  the  weapon. 

'  Very  well,  Mari,"  snapped  he,  a  fierce  begrudg- 
ing in  his  tone.  "  But  we'll  chase  him  at  any  rate," 
he  went  on,  urging  the  horse  to  double  speed  in 
wake  of  the  flying  nondescript. 

As  they  disappeared,  "All  right — lolyn!" 
growled  the  dismounted  rider  of  the  fallen  horse, 
dragging  himself  out  of  the  ditch  into  which  he  had 
rolled.  "And  all  right,  Mari,  too.  I'll  not  forget 
the  names  of  either  of  you.  And  oh !  if  I  only 
knew  that  cursed  Welsh  lingo  of  yours,  so  that  I 
18 


274          FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO 

could  tell  what  else  you  said  besides  the  two  names. 
But  never  mind;  I'll  make  all  that  up  and  so  it's 
even  better  as  it  is.  Your  names'll  do  for  Chapel, 
I'll  uphold." 

lolyn  checked  at  the  cross  roads,  for  he  heard 
the  flying  hoofs  pounding  away  down  the  road  to 
the  left. 

'  That  will  do  well  enough  for  us,"  said  he  to 
Mari.  "  We'll  go  on  by  Mold  and  up  through 
Rhyd  y  mwyn.  There  Elis  Bryn  Eithin  shall  guide 
us  out  across  the  waste  to  Ystrad  *  Clwyd.  The 
spies  will  only  think  of  the  road,  while  Elis  will 
take  us  through  between  Moel  Arthur  and  P.en  y 
Cloddiau — yea,  we  shall  do  well  enough  now." 

'  Thank  God  for  it,"  he  heard  her  repeating  fer- 
vently to  herself. 

He  had,  as  he  believed,  effectually  put  an  end  to 
the  efforts  of  the  spies  to  follow  him,  and  so  he 
pushed  on  without  further  qualm.  Skirting  Mold 
he  soon  reached  Rhyd  y  mwyn  and  before  long  had 
roused  Elis  of  Bryn  Eithin  to  get  them  a  supper  of 
wholesome  flummery  and  milk,  which,  together  with 
the  hour's  rest,  did  Mari  a  world  of  good. 

Starting  again,  lolyn  led  the  horse  while  Mari 
rode;  Elis  guiding  them  by  sheep  trails  a  hand's 

*  Ystrad  =  strath. 


FOR   THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          2?$ 

breadth  wide,  over  rock  and  through  heather,  till  at 
last  the  arching  daylight  found  them  in  green  pas- 
tures again.  The  silver  ribbon  of  Chvyd  wound 
brightly  beneath  their  feet,  and  yonder  in  front  the 
dark  wildernesses  of  Hiraethog  were  warming  to 
life  under  the  wine  of  the  new  sun,  that  tinted 
them  all  tawny  with  elusive  gold. 

A  handshake  at  parting  was  to  have  been  for  all 
reward  to  Elis,  but  Mari  from  under  the  frilled  cap 
loosed  the  embroidered  ribbon  that  snooded  her 
hair  beneath.  "  Give  that  to  your  sweetheart," 
said  she  with  a  sad  little  blush. 

"  Not  till  she  is  your  wife,"  put  in  lolyn  promptly; 
"for  either  she'll  grow  jealous  and  give  you  the  back 
of  her  beaver  to  stare  at,  or  she'll  worry  the  secret 
out  of  you  and  then — then  it  will  be  a  woman's 
secret,"  ended  he  with  a  significant  smile. 

The  smile  went  round,  evoking  another  hand- 
shake, and  then  lolyn  started  forward  to  cross  the 
river,  keeping  to  no  path  saving  in  so  far  as  it  might 
lead -towards  the  stream.  Reaching  the  bank  he 
mounted  and  pushed  into  the  first  ford  that 
offered,  gaining  the  other  bank  without  further 
incident. 

"  And  now  for  the  cave,"  said  he,  as  he  set  the 
nag's  head  towards  Trefnant. 


2/6         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

Coming  into  the  road  from  Denbigh  to  St.  Asaph 
he  followed  it  till  it  dipped  into  the  beautiful  Glyn 
Elwy.  Here  crossing  Avon  Elwy  they  turned  to 
the  left  up  one  of  the  loveliest  glyns  even  in 
Wales,  and  as  she  gazed  around  Mari  could  not 
suppress  the  cry,  "  Oh  if  my  father  were  only 
free!" 

"Ah!"  answered  lolyn,  "this  valley  is  indeed 
fair  enough  to  tempt  you,  yea,  I  reckon  you  would 
wish  to  hide  here  and  nurse  Ithel  forever." 

Her  only  answer  was  a  sigh  of  distress  and 
lolyn  kept  silence  as  they  passed  along  the  edge  of 
the  level,  under  the  beautiful  hanging  woods  which 
on  this  side,  as  on  the  other,  clothed  the  enclosing 
steeps  with  bosky  robe.  Then,  where  the  river  at 
another  bend  opened  a  scene  even  fairer  yet,  he 
followed  the  bridle  path  as  it  quartered  down  to 
the  edge  of  the  water  and  up  along  its  pebbly  mar- 
gin till  he  came  abreast  of  a  grove  of  ancient  syca- 
mores. 

Stretching  his  hand,  "  This  is  the  demesne  of 
Wigfair,"  said  he  to  Mari,  as  he  turned  in  the 
saddle  to  look  at  her.  "  Yonder  on  the  height  is 
the  house  of  it — the  trees  hide  it — but  here  in  the 
low  land ;  here  in  this  grove,  is  Ffynnon  Fair  itself. 
But  come  you,  Mari,  and  look  at  it  in  the  daylight; 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNQ          277 

for  it  is  deep  in  my  mind  that  you'll  stand  beside 
it  at  midnight  before  the  days  be  many." 

He  had  already  reined  to  his  right  across  the 
mead  that  was  as  green  as  living  emerald  and  level 
as  a  floor,  and  before  the  wonder  in  her  eyes  could 
shape  itself  into  a  question  she  saw,  in  the  midst 
of  the  grove,  the  grey  walls  of  a  ruined  chapel, 
from  whence  issued  a  purling  stream  of  crystal 
clearness.  The  roof  was  gone ;  the  stone  tracery  of 
the  windows  was  gone;  the  two  doorways  were 
empty  of  oak  or  bar ;  here  and  there  the  ivy  threw 
its  green  mantle  over  the  desolate  walls;  and  yet 
the  glamour  of  hoar  loveliness  kept  it  more  sacred 
still  in  its  decay.  From  it  no  sweet  toned  bell 
would  ever  again  call  weary  hearts  to  vesper  rest ; 
only  the  blackbird  whistling  clearly  from  the  bough 
o'erhead  might  call  the  ploughman's  mind  to  the 
days  that  were  long  evanished — only  the  lark  from 
the  mead  would  chant  the  matins  of  that  scene  of 
peace.  The  sad  and  crumbling  beauty  of  the 
ruined  Capel  Fair;  Our  Lady's  Chapel,  hallowed 
with  mystic  peace  all  the  tender  scene,  till  the  spirit 
of  it  stole  into  the  heart  of  Mari  like  the  incense 
of  heaven,  and  she  turned  her  face  away  that  lolyn 
might  not  see  it. 

But  he  felt  the  effect  and  without  a  word  assisted 


278         FOR    THE   WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

her  to  dismount.  Leading  her  inside,  he  yet  kept 
silent  till  he  stood  with  her  at  the  edge  of  a  broken 
shrine,  within  whose  carved  and  masoned  base 
welled  the  cool  deeps  of  Our  Lady's  Fountain. 
"This,"  said  he  gently,  "this  is  Ffynnon  Fair:* 
and  perhaps  you  will  see  it  again  sooner  than  you 
look  for." 

Mari  knew  to  what  he  alluded,  but  she  stood  still 
and  quiet,  gazing  into  the  well,  for  the  place  was 
holy,  and  she  felt  the  peace  which  keeps  the  spirit 
steady  in  sorrow  or  in  joy. 

No  more  was  said  as  he  led  her  out  and  mounted 
her  again,  though  this  time  he  took  the  bridle  and 
walked  beside  the  horse's  head.  For  they  were 
come  nigh  to  the  end  of  their  journey.  Another 
hundred  yards  or  so  and  they  found  the  river 
drawing  along  close  under  the  wooded  slope,  where 
the  glyn  was  narrowed  to  a  gap  scarcely  more  than 
wide  enough  for  the  water. 

"  Here  we  must  leave  the  horse,"  said  lolyn 
halting.  '  This  trail  up  through  the  wood  will  take 
us  to  where  we  are  going." 

The  top  of  the  path  led  out  upon  a  rocky  point, 
one  of  the  two  horns  of  the  vast  cliff  in  whose 
breast  is  the  cave  of  hiding.  When  lolyn  reached 

*  Fountain  of  Mary. 


V 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          279 

the  point  he  saw  on  a  seat  by  the  cave  mouth  the 
figure  of  Ithel.  He  felt  the  tremor  run  through 
the  arm  he  supported.  A  few  steps  more  and  they 
were  face  to  face.  He  loosed  her  arm ;  he  heard 
the  cry  of  recognition — and  he  passed  on  in  to 
where  Ned  was  suddenly  busy  in  preparing  break- 
fast. 

Said  he  of  the  Clough,  "  He'd  ha'  deed,  lad,  if 
thou  had  come  back  bout  her." 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

BUT  while  this  happiness  was  in  the  cave,  some- 
thing occurred  in  Chester  which  boded  ill  for  its 
continuance.  The  two  discomfited  spies  had  re- 
turned crestfallen  to  meet  John  Chapel,  and  were 
more  than  pleased  to  be  able  to  report  to  Maddox 
himself  instead  of  to  his  ferocious  lieutenant.  They 
quite  smiled  with  relief  to  find  that  he  had  arrived 
from  London ;  so  much  had  they  dreaded  the  other. 

Maddox  did  not  stop  to  curse  their  stupidity;  he 
was  learning  the  sleuth-hound's  business  better; 
but  he  straightway  laid  information  against  Mari  as 
an  aider  of  forfeited  rebels,  and  a  partaker  with 
them  in  the  attempted  murder  of  two  of  the  King's 
Peace  officers.  Not  content  with  the  warrant,  he 
proclaimed  a  reward  for  her  arrest  in  a  sum  equal  to 
that  upon  her  two  "  accomplices." 

This  done  he  gathered  all  the  band  of  his  crea- 
tures and  started  for  the  mountains,  while  one  of 
Meredith's  kin  copied  the  proclamation  and  de- 
spatched it,  by  the  most  innocent  seeming  of  mes- 
sengers, westward  for  Dolben. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          28 1 

In  this  same  ill  shadowed  train  of  circumstances 
Elis  Bryn  Eithin  had  an  unwitting  share.  When 
he  received  the  ribbon  he  first  turned  straight  for 
home,  but  with  every  step  he  took  the  words  of 
Mari  drummed  louder  in  his  ear.  "  Give  it  to  your 
sweetheart."  A  black  eye  was  haunting  him.  The 
day  was  beautiful.  What  better  day  to  go  and  see 
Gwen  Holland  ? 

So  he  sat  him  down  and  debated,  with  the  natural 
result  that  presently  he  was  striding  back  with  his 
face  towards  Trefnant,  where,  in  Nant  Patric,  quick- 
tempered Gwen  resided. 

Now  Gwen  was  bound  that  day  for  Denbigh 
market,  so  never  a  gift  came  handier  than  this  in- 
comparable ribbon.  She  tied  it  round  her  neck  and 
let  the  embroidered  ends  hang  down  upon  her 
bosom.  It  was  such  a  pretty  ribbon. 

But  none  of  these  things  were  known  as  yet  in 
the  cave  which  had  been  the  refuge  of  hunted  crea- 
tures from  paleolithic  days.  Instead,  Mari  was  try- 
ing to  thank  Ned,  who  stubbornly  refused  to  be  put 
on  any  pedestal. 

"  Aw'm  no'but  a — footpad — miss;  though  Aw've 
never  hit  ony  mon  fro'  beheend,  nor  took  aught  fro' 
a  poor  chap.  Aw  trapped  Ithel  for  brass  an'  naught 
else;  an'  as  for  nussin'  him  at  th'  after,  why,  that 


282         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

were  th'  Doctor,  an'  how  could  Aw  say  aught  agen 
nussin'  him  after  th'  way  he  kept  his  word  about 
th'  two  guineas  ?  An'  that  Hessian  dooment  too, 
why,  Aw  were  feightin'  for  my  own  neck,  and  don't 
yo'  ne'er  believe  aught  different." 

But  all  three  of  the  others  were  by  this  time  smil- 
ing so  broadly  that  he  gave  it  up  and  walked  away, 
lolyn  followed  him  and  there  befel  what  at  first 
blush  might  have  been  the  prelude  to  a  very  pretty 
fight.  Said  Ned  sharply,  "  What  'st  ta  bin  tellin' 
yon  mak  of  a  tale  to  th'  lass  for  ?  It  maks  a  foo' 
o'  me,  as  if  Aw  reckon't  to  be  a  mon  'at  ne'er  did 
an  ill  deed  in  his  life." 

"  D'ye  think  I  told  her  anything  at  all  ?  "  retorted 
lolyn,  his  turn  now  to  grin.  "  I've  better  use  for 
my  breath  than  trying  to  persuade  a  woman  to 
believe  this,  that,  or  t'other.  A  woman  guesses  some 
tale  that  pleases  her  and  a  whole  bench  of  bishops, 
talking  a  whole  day,  wouldn't  shift  her  belief.  But 
you'll  learn  these  things  some  day.  You  are  young, 
yet,  Ned." 

"  Ecod!"  swore  the  other,  his  anger  lost  in  mild 
astonishment;  "  An'  thou'rt  a  rare  an'  ancient  owd 
mon  thysel'.  What  were  thy  address  afore  th' 
Flood  ?  and  what  breed  did  they  book  thee  under 
when  thou  went  into  th'  Ark  ? " 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         283 

"  A  donkey,  I  suppose,"  retorted  lolyn  genially; 
and  so  the  breeze  blew  over. 

Ithel  seemed  to  have  gained  weeks  of  strength  in 
the  hour  since  Mari's  arrival,  as  they  two  sat  in  the 
warmer  air  of  the  mouth  of  the  cave.  Though  the 
prospect  at  their  feet  was  one  of  such  rare  beauty, 
yet  mere  landscape  was  not  the  thing  which  Ithel 
was  so  earnestly  pointing  out  to  her.  Instead  he 
was  explaining  the  peculiar  safety  of  their  retreat. 
Two  paces  in  front  of  them  the  limestone  cliff 
dropped  down  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet,  to  the  level 
strip  of  mead  through  which  the  Elwy  gleamed  on 
its  arrowy  course.  Above  their  heads  the  bare  front 
rose  straight  as  a  wall  into  the  blue,  while  on  either 
hand  it  pushed  out  two  horns  like  the  crescent 
moon,  sixty  paces  or  more  from  tip  to  tip,  and  in 
the  centre  of  the  hollow  breast  between  yawned  the 
mouth  of  the  cave. 

The  only  approach  to  the  latter  was  along  a  nar- 
row ledge  which  stretched  from  point  to  point  of  the 
crescent  at  the  level  of  the  opening,  forming  a  path 
at  first  barely  wide  enough  for  one  person  to  pass 
at  a  time,*  but  becoming  broader  as  it  neared  the 

*  There  is  now  a  good  and  well  made  path  for  both  ap- 
proaches, and  thick  bushes  protect  against  an  ordinary  slip  or 
stumble. 


284         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

cave,  until  it  gave  a  platform  of  two  or  three  paces 
wide  in  front  of  the  opening. 

The  easiest  way  to  come  at  the  cliff  was  that  by 
which  lolyn  had  brought  Mari ;  up  the  wooded  slope 
from  Ffynnon  y  Capel,  but  even  by  that,  once  the 
horn  was  reached,  the  path  was  so  dangerously  nar- 
row for  the  first  few  steps;  the  cliff  towering  so 
straight  above  and  dropping  so  sheer  below,  that  a 
single  resolute  man  could  there  keep  a  company  at 
bay.  The  other  horn  was  even  worse  if  anything; 
the  broken  and  densely  wooded  craigside  beyond 
having  nothing  better  than  a  goat  trail  leading 
through  to  the  outer  world. 

While  Nature  had  provided  the  place  against  all 
assaults  save  that  of  famine,  it  had  also  furnished  a 
curtain  to  screen  it  from  observation.  Where  the 
ledge  broadened  in  front  of  the  cave,  the  cliff  im- 
mediately below  was  ragged  and  broken  for  a  few 
feet  down,  and  here  green  bushes  clung  in  the  crev- 
ices, screening  the  path,  while  right  in  front  of  the 
opening  rose  a  long  limbed  oak;  one  branch  of 
which  extended  backwards  as  if  it  would  take  fresh 
hold  of  the  cliff  above  the  entrance. 

'You  see  that  we  are  impregnable,"  ended  Ithel 
as  he  laid  the  points  of  their  security  before  Mari. 

But  as  she  listened  while  he  dwelt  upon  this  aspect 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          285 

of  things,  more  and  more  poignantly  did  his  words 
bring  up  in  her  mind  the  contrast  between  these 
free  wilds  and  those  grim  walls  of  Newgate  which 
pent  her  father  in. 

Ithel  read  the  thoughts  which  made  her  clasp  her 
hands  so  tightly  and  filled  her  eyes  with  unshed 
tears.  "Courage;  sweetheart,"  he  whispered;  "  I 
shall  be  well  now  in  a  day  or  two  at  farthest.  Then 
we  will  go  to  London  and  plan  some  way  of  escape 
for  your  father.  Remember  what  Winifred  *  of  the 
Black  Herberts  did :  surely  we  can  do  something 
too." 

"  Ah;  I  do  remember  her,  but  so  does  the  gov- 
ernment," responded  Mari  with  a  despairing  ges- 
ture. '  The  very  first  time  I  was  admitted  to  New- 
gate the  jailer  shook  his  keys  and  pointed  to  the 
irons  that  hung  and  clanked  about  my  father.  '  You 
see  we  remember  what  that  other  Welshwoman  did 
after  the  last  rebellion,'  said  he,  jeering  at  me;  '  But 
we  know  better  this  time.'  No,  Ithel;  the  only 
hope  lies  in  the  clemency  of  the  king,  and  you 
know  what  that  means." 

All  the  new  dreams  in  his  soul  could  not  avail  to 
shake  the  mournful  conviction  which  had  settled  in 

*  Winifred,  Countess  of  Nithsdale.  She  was  a  daughter  of  the 
Lords  of  Powys. 


286         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

Mari's  breast,  though  he  continued  the  debate  in 
fondest  terms.  The  shadow  of  the  prison  cell  was 
on  her  heart  too  heavy  to  be  lifted. 

But  while  they  were  thus  engrossed  lolyn  took 
the  opportunity  to  depart  upon  an  errand  the  object 
of  which  he  kept  to  himself.  Even  Ned  did  not 
know  that  he  was  gone  to  Rhuddlan,  where  Shon 
Goch  was  about  due  from  a  voyage  to  Ireland. 

It  was  evening  when  he  returned,  and  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  path  he  met  Ned.  There  was  a  smile 
upon  the  latter's  features  so  dark  and  hard  that 
lolyn  checked  at  once.  '  What  is  it  ? "  demanded 
he  under  his  breath.  "  Is  Ithel  dead  ? — or  Mari  ? " 

"  What  is  it?"  repeated  Ned.  "  By  th'  mass, 
lad,  yon  Chapel  and  his  Maddox  are  rare  uns.  Dal ! 
but  Aw'd  like  to  rive  th'  yeds  off  bwoth  on  'em. 
Lad!  it's  no'but  about  ten  minutes  sin' — yigh,  hap- 
pen it's  th'  hauve  an  hour  sin' — there  coom  one  o* 
Dolben's  men  up  here  wi*  a  papper  fro'  Chester. 
What  dost  think  ?  Maddox  has  getten  Mari  out- 
lawed too;  for  that's  what  th'  papper  coom  to  i'  th' 
finish. 

"  Aw  gan  it  to  Ithel,  but  he  went  so  white  at 
readin*  it  that  naught  would  do  but  hoo  (she)  mun 
ha'  a  look  too.  Just  at  th'  first  hoo  seemed  relieved 
like;  hoo  thought  it  had  bin  some  harm  to  him,  said 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO  287 

hoo.  He  kept  his  een  on  her  then  and  so  Aw  did 
mine,  for  Aw  knew  what  were  written  on  the  pap- 
per.  Then  hoo  begun  to  gawm  (understand)  what  it 
meant,  an'  we  could  see  it  getherin'  in  her  face. 

"  Lad,  her  face  was  summat  to  see  when  at  last 
hoo  begun  to  get  her  words  out:  feightin'  wi'  her 
throat  to  help  'em  come.  It  wer'  a  sort  of  a  whis- 
per an*  hoo  were  tellin'  hersel'  'at  this  papper  meant 
'at  hoo  couldno'  go  back  to  London;  'at  hoo  should 
ne'er  see  her  father  again;  'at  hoo'd  sin  him  for  th* 
last  time  i'  this  world;  an'  'at  when  hoo  did  see  him 
that  last  time  hoo  were  irreverent,  talkin'  of  hope 
and  release — not  of  death  an'  askin'  his  blessin',  as 
hoo  ought  to  ha'  done. 

"  Then  hoo  began  to  say  'at  it  were  o'  her  fault 
for  comin'  here  against  our  advice — but  by  that 

time  Ithel  had  howd  of  her  an'  Aw  coom  away 

'  Yigh,  lad,  Aw  ne'er  did  want  to  see  a  mon  so 
mich  as  Aw  want  to  come  across  oather  Chapel  or 
Maddox." 

lolyn's  features  were  twitching  with  the  intensity 
of  his  excitement  as  he  listened,  and  Ned  could  see 
the  effort  which  he  was  making  to  restrain  himself. 
His  words  however  were  perfectly  calm  and  col- 
lected. 

"  Where  is  Dolben's  man  ? "  said  he. 


288         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

'  Yonder,  at  th'  other  point.  Aw  put  him 
theer  for  sentry  till  thou  geet  back,"  answered 
Ned. 

'  Then  keep  him  there  till  I  get  back  again  a 
second  time,"  said  lolyn  promptly.  '  There  is  no 
time  to  lose  now,  and  I  am  going  to  make  arrange- 
ments with  Shon  Goch  for  getting  these  two  safely 
beyond  the  reach  of  proclamations.  Keep  a  good 
guard" — the  last  word  came  from  ten  paces  down 
the  slope,  where  the  speaker  was  already  moving 
away.  • 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

MEANWHILE  the  web  was  weaving  on  in  Denbigh. 
In  the  late  afternoon  Maddox  and  two  of  his  crea- 
tures had  ridden  up  the  main  street,  with  eyes  keenly 
alert,  and  half  way  along  they  met  Gwen  Bolland 
with  her  finery  well  to  the  fore. 

The  ribbon  had  been  a  favourite  one  of  Mari's; 
one  she  had  ornamented  with  her  own  needle,  and 
thus  Maddox  recognised  it  at  the  first  glance. 
Drawing  rein,  "  That  is  a  pretty  ribbon,"  said  he; 
"  What  will  you  take  for  it  ? " 

"  More  than  you  can  give,"  retorted  Gwen. 

"  Come  now,"  said  Maddox;  "  you  must  let  me 
have  it:  I  want  it  for  my  sweetheart." 

"  So  did  the  man  who  gave  it  to  me,"  snapped 
Gwen. 

"  And  who  is  he  and  where  did  he  get  it  ? "  re- 
turned Maddox. 

"  A  better  man  than  ever  you  dare  be,  and  he 
bought  it,  and  if  you  want  to  know  any  more  go 
and  ask  him — he'll  then  give  you  the  thrashing  you 
need." 

19 


290         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

"  Oh,  will  he  ?"  retorted  Maddox.  "  Well  I  am 
going  to  see  him.  That  ribbon  you  are  wearing 
belonged  yesterday  to  a  farmer's  wife,  who  left 
Chester  with  her  husband  only  last  evening.  They 
were  riding  a  brockle  faced  bay,  with  three  white 
fetlocks,  and  they  were  set  upon  close  to  Mold  and 
robbed  and  murdered ;  the  horse  being  shot  too, 
and  I  want  you  before  the  magistrate  about  it." 

'  You  lie,"  broke  in  Gwen,  her  hot  temper  blind- 
ing her  to  the  clumsiness  of  the  trap.  '  That 
woman  and  her  man  went  past  Nant  Patric  this 
very  morning,  when  I  was  going  milking;  riding  the 
same  brockle  faced  nag  with  the  white  fetlocks — and 
that  was  an  hour  before  Elis  gave  me  the  ribbon. 
They  rode  on  into  Glyn  Elwy,  too,  and  if  you'll 
follow  them  you'll  find  them  and  see  what  a  liar 
you  are." 

"  But  you'll  have  to  come  before  a  magistrate," 
reiterated  Maddox. 

"  Magistrate!  "  shaking  her  fist  in  his  face.  "  If 
you're  not  off  this  minute;  you  curd-faced  rabbit, 
I'll  call  the  constable  to  you  yourself  for  a  drunken 
highwayman — only  you  have  not  the  spunk  to  be 
one." 

By  this  time  a  crowd  had  collected  and  Maddox 
was  in  a  quandary.  He  felt  sure  that  Gwen  had 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          29 1 

told  all  she  knew  and  that  to  have  her  arrested  in 
the  face  of  the  crowd  would  turn  suspicion  loose 
upon  himself  as  a  stranger:  suspicion  which  would 
speedily  result  in  warning  the  three  he  sought,  and 
thus  start  them  on  some  new  flight.  He  drew  in 
his  horns  therefore  and  put  his  horse  into  motion 
again,  followed  by  the  shrill  clamour  of  Owen's  bit- 
ing tongue. 

To  shake  her  off  he  turned  to  his  left  and  trotted 
smartly  through  a  side  street  till  he  came  to  Chapel 
Street.  One  or  two  more  such  cuts  freed  him,  and 
then  he  immediately  made  his  way  to  the  house  of 
the  most  unpopular  person  in  the  town ;  the  only 
Whig  magistrate  the  place  possessed.  This  indi- 
vidual, one  of  no  particular  kin  or  come-fro',  jumped 
at  the  chance  of  helping  to  hunt  down  a  rebel  and 
so  dealing  a  back  handed  blow  to  popular  senti- 
ment. 

He  listened  eagerly  to  all  that  Maddox  chose  to 
impart  of  his  errand,  and  when  he  heard  that  Gwen 
had  seen  lolyn  and  Mari  pass  into  Glyn  Elwy  he 
gladdened  on  the  trail  at  once. 

I  know  just  where  they  are,"  said  he;  "I  have 
been  pretty  sure  of  it  for  a  long  time  but  I  could  do 
nothing  here,  alone,  where  every  man  is  openly  a 
Tory  and  secretly  a  rebel.  Moreover  I  can  furnish 


292          FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

you  with  a  guide,  too.  He  is  in  the  lock-up  just 
now;  these  pig  headed  Tory  Justices  have  a  grudge 
against  him  and  want  to  transport  him.  But  you 
can  bail  him  out.  Now  how  many  men  have 
you  ?" 

"  I  can  have  fifteen  of  them  here  by  darkfall,"  an- 
swered Maddox.  '  Just  wait  one  moment  and  I  will 
start  off  the  two  fellows  I  have  with  me  to  gather 
the  rest."  Which  done,  he  returned  to  draw  up 
the  plan  of  operations. 

Darkness  had  fallen  a  good  hour  or  more  that 
night  when  the  first  of  the  party  stole  out  from 
Denbigh  along  the  road  to  Henllan,  where  the  meet 
was  to  be.  One  by  one  the  rest  followed  until  the 
whole  were  mustered.  Then,  Chapel  and  the  guide 
leading  and  Maddox  bringing  up  the  rear,  they 
moved  stealthily  forward  along  the  road  till  they 
descended  into  Glyn  Elwy  at  the  boundary  of  Dol- 
ben,  right  opposite  the  cliff  of  the  cave  itself. 

Creeping  with  wolfish  cunning;  keeping  well 
within  the  gloomy  shadows  of  the  overhanging 
woods,  they  passed  beyond  the  sleeping  house  till 
they  could  cross  the  river  dry  shod  by  the  Pont 
Newydd.  The  soft  grass  underfoot  gave  forth  no 
sound  as  the  guide  now  led  the  way  up  the  steep 
slope  of  the  Cefn,  and  the  dusky  web  of  the  mid- 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          293 
/ 
summer    night    hid    them    completely    from    any 

watcher  on  the  cliff.  Their  arms  were  short  hangers 
and  pistols,  so  that  their  coat  skirts  covered  all,  and 
there  was  neither  gleam  nor  sound  of  metal  to  be- 
tray them. 

Once  on  the  top  of  the  ridge  they  paused  to 
breathe  and  then  Chapel,  taking  nine  men,  followed 
silently  where  the  guide  started  forward  again  for 
the  sheep  path  which  would  ultimately  lead  them  to 
the  most  dangerous  horn  of  the  cliff.  Almost  at 
the  first  step  they  plunged  into  the  tangle  of  wood 
and  scrub  which  there  runs  steeply  down  into  the 
glyn,  and  it  was  necessary  to  clutch  the  stems 
and  branches  to  prevent  the  feet  from  slipping  and 
betraying  them.  Then  as  they  drew  forward  they 
went  with  very  breath  abated ;  feeling  for  each  step 
before  setting  down  the  foot,  until  at  last  they  stood 
firm  on  a  more  open  spot  within  a  dozen  yards  of 
the  horn. 

That  horn,  being  the  least  likely  to  be  attempted, 
had  been  given  by  Ned  into  the  keeping  of  Dolben's 
man  till  lolyn  should  return ;  and  this  man,  weary 
with  a  day's  hard  work  and  lulled  by  the  sensuous 
summer  night,  had  fallen  asleep  as  he  lay  along  the 
ledge  where  it  jutted  farthest  out.  But  the  guide 
knew  nothing  of  this  as  he  seized  Chapel's  hand  in 


294         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

token  that  where  they  stood  was  the  limit  till  the 
rush  itself  was  made.  The  path  was  plain  and  firm 
from  there  on  to  the  jutting  nose,  and  so  he  left 
them  to  wait  till  he  should  have  conducted  Maddox 
and  the  other  five  round  to  the  opposite  approach. 

The  way  of  this  smaller  party  was  along  the  level 
ridge  above,  and  so  within  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
Maddox  found  himself  standing  on  the  trail  leading 
up  through  the  wood  from  Ffynnon  Fair;  and  within 
half  pistol  range  of  the  point  which  Ned  lay  guard- 
ing. 

The  signal  to  begin  was  to  be  a  shrill  whistle, 
both  parties  then  simultaneously  to  rush  forward  to 
the  attack.  A  couple  of  minutes  to  gather  breath 
and  then  weapons  were  out;  the  whistle  sounded; 
and  with  a  crash  of  twigs  the  five  men  dashed  after 
the  guide  where  he  made  straight  for  the  point. 
Two  paces  past  it  and  the  leader's  legs  were  jerked 
from  under  him  as  he  leaped.  One  wild  upward 
fling  of  his  clutching  hands;  one  instant  rattling 
gasp  of  dread,  and  then  head  foremost  through  the 
empty  air  he  went  down,  headlong  down,  till  the 
dull  thud  of  his  mangled  corpse  came  up  from 
the  glyn  below. 

The  man  next  behind  sprang  back  from  this  unseen 
danger.  Straightway  a  shriek  from  him  proclaimed 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO          29$ 

that  he  had  missed  his  footing  and  he  followed  the 
guide  through  the  blackness,  while  Ned  rose  from 
his  knees  and  with  a  step  forward  fired  his  pistol 
right  into  the  body  of  the  third,  where  he  hesitated 
at  the  outmost  face  of  the  point.  Then  as  he 
jumped  to  the  point  himself  he  distinguished  the 
other  three  hanging  back  irresolute  in  the  bushes 
just  beyond.  He  only  grinned  as  the  balls  of  their 
hasty  unaimed  volley  whistled  past  him,  and  at  two 
paces'  range  his  second  pistol  dropped  the  nearest  of 
them,  while  the  others  turned  and  flew  down  the 
trail,  following  the  craven  Maddox,  who  had  run  at 
the  first  shot. 

For  a  stride  or  two  Ned  seemed  inclined  to  fol- 
low, but,  halting,  he  drew  another  pistol  and  fired  it 
after  the  fugitives.  "  Aw've  settlet  that  lot  for 
one  neet,  chuzhow,"  said  he  to  himself  in  grim 
complacency. 

"  Hello!  "  the  awakening  came  too  late.  A  rush 
and  a  flash  of  light  behind  him,  and  as  he  whirled 
to  meet  the  danger  a  crashing  blow  half  stunned 
him,  while  in  the  same  moment  a  pair  of  sinewy 
arms  seized  him  and  bore  him  down  upon  his  back 
in  the  bushes.  Instantly  half  a  dozen  hands  clutched 
him,  pinioning  his  limbs  and  holding  him  helpless, 
while  his  first  assailant  knelt  upon  his  chest  and 


296         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

pressed  the  cold  circle  of  a  pistol  muzzle  against  his 
forehead  to  emphasize  the  wolfish  snarl. 

"  Quiet !  or  to  h — 11  you  go  !  " 

For  John  Chapel,  leading  his  own  rush,  had 
stumbled  upon  the  sleeping  Dolben  man  and 
straightway  stunned  him  where  he  lay.  Almost 
without  pausing  he  had  resumed  the  rush,  leaving 
the  last  two  me-n  to  bind  the  sentinel,  while  the  rest 
followed  after  himself.  Seeing  the  pistol  flashes  at 
the  other  horn  he  had  dashed  on  past  the  cave  and 
attacked  Ned  from  behind,  his  venomous  soul 
savagely  set  that  none  of  the  hunted  party  should 
escape. 

Ned  recognised  his  voice  at  once  and  instantly 
shut  his  teeth  upon  the  answer  which  was  on  the  tip 
of  his  tongue.  If  Chapel  had  not  discovered  his 
identity  it  would  be  foolish  in  himself  to  betray  it. 
Neither  was  he  disconcerted  by  the  flash  of  the  dark 
lantern  which  shone  upon  him,  for  he  knew  that  the 
other  had  never  seen  his  features  and  would  only 
know  him  by  his  voice,  even  as  it  had  been  with 
himself. 

Next  moment  however,  he  felt  a  cold  chill  of  back- 
set in  his  heart  as  his  captors  whipped  a  stout  cord 
round  him,  binding  his  wrists  and  elbows  close  to  his 
body.  Then  one  of  them  remained  kneeling  beside 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         297 

him,  with  a  pistol  to  his  ear,  while  the  rest  followed 
their  leader  as  he  darted  back  to  the  cave  mouth, 
where  the  two  who  had  bound  and  left  the  Dolben 
man  were  now  standing  guard.  With  the  lantern 
held  aloft  Chapel  turned  to  the  left  and,  pushing 
past  the  straw  mat  which  served  for  a  door,  found 
himself  within  ten  feet  of  a  rude  table,  where,  in  the 
light  of  a  single  candle,  sat  Meredith,  while  beside 
him,  white  with  dread  and  yet  risen  as  if  to  protect 
him,  stood  Mari. 

One  glance  at  the  fiendish  triumph  in  Chapel's 
face  and  she  turned  to  her  lover. 

'  We  are  lost !     Ithel !     We  are  lost!     lolyn  was 
right — my  coming  has  betrayed  you." 

Then  as  Ithel,  too  weak  still  to  fight,  looked  up 
with  a  world  of  sorrow  for  her  in  his  face,  she  added, 
with  a  cry  of  agony;  "  Oh  can  you — can  you  ever 
forgive  me  ? " 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

JOHN  CHAPEL'S  fury,  when  he  found  that  lolyn 
was  not  in  the  cave,  transformed  him  into  a  howling 
demon  for  the  next  few  minutes ;  and  his  paroxysm 
of  rage  so  startled  his  men  that  they  forgot  all  else 
in  watching  it.  He  tore  into  the  long  reaches 
behind,  panting  and  snapping  curses,  till  a  sudden 
stumble  jerked  the  lantern  from  his  hand  and  left 
him  in  darkness.  Then  he  stood  rolling  out  a  string 
of  blasphemy  till  his  subordinates  had  lit  torches 
of  greased  rushes  from  a  pile  near  the  table,  by  the 
light  of  which  he  stumbled  back  again,  still  raging. 

Sticking  a  pistol  into  Meredith's  face  where  he 
sat,  "  Tell  me  where  he  is  ? "  screamed  he,  "  or  I'll 
blow  your  head  off!  " 

With  a  shriek  of  horror  Mari  dashed  the  weapon 
aside.  "Oh!"  yelled  he;  "that's  you,  is  it? 
Take  that  for  meddling  then;  you  -  — !  "  and  with 
the  word  he  aimed  a  savage  blow  at  her  face  which 
would  have  crushed  it  completely  had  not  Ithel, 
with  a  gasp  of  pain,  risen  and  flung  himself  upon 
the  villain's  throat. 

'  To  strike  a  woman  ! — Help  me  if  you  be  men  ! ' ' 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO          299 

panted  he  to  the  rest,  and  two  or  three  of  them, 
being  still  Englishmen,  dragged  Chapel  away 
towards  the  entrance. 

'  They  are  prisoners,"    said  one  sternly,    "  but 
they  are  not  convicted  yet." 

Ho!  you  too,"  screamed  Chapel  with  a  horrible 
sneer;  "  We  are  lawyers  too;  are  we!  But  I'll  see 
you  roasted  alive  yet  for  interfering  with  me.  Ho! 
I  will!" 

But  the  other  lifted  his  pistol  so  swiftly  at  the 
threat  that  the  half  crazed  fool  had  yet  sense 
enough  left  to  pause  before  arraying  his  own  party 
against  himself.  Then  he  suddenly  remembered 
and  with  a  dreadful  whine  of  "  Oh,  there's  that  one 
we  captured  outside.  If  he  won't  tell  us  I'll  cut  it 
out  of  him  with  a  knife!"  he  seized  a  torch  and 
darted  out  again,  the  rest  following. 

Halting  in  front  of  the  opening,  "  Bring  that  pris- 
oner here!  "  he  screamed,  gesticulating  towards  the 
point  beyond  which  Ned  was  lying. 

One  of  the  men  immediately  went  to  obey  and  in 
another  minute  Ned  was  led  along  between  his 
guards  and  placed  before  the  man  whom  he  had 
aforetime  punced. 

'  Where  is  lolyn ;  tell  me,  you  gallows  bird,  or 
I'll " 


300         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

The  temptation  to  snatch  a  brief  triumph  was  too 
strong  for  Ned.  "  Gwon !  hours  sin'.  An'  thou 
'11  ne'er  catch  him  if  thou  runs  till  thou  drop's 
dyed!" 

The  tone  was  enough  for  Chapel.  With  a  gasp 
of  rage,  "  Oh  you  are  the  one  who  kicked  me  to 
death  nearly.  Ho!  I'll  burn  you,  burn  you! 
burn " 

He  made  a  savage  thrust  with  his  torch  at  Ned's 
face  as  he  screamed  the  threats,  but  the  flame  made 
the  guards  dodge  also  and  like  a  thunderbolt  Ned 
planted  a  murderous  kick  in  his  assailant's  abdo- 
men. The  curses  broke  short  off  as  the  raving 
villain  dropped  like  a  beef  under  the  butcher's  poll- 
axe,  and  a  great  slow  groan  betokened  the  paralys- 
ing nature  of  his  hurt. 

The  guards  threw  Ned  upon  his  back  again  too 
quickly  for  him  to  repeat  the  blow,  but  as  they  held 
him  down  they  heard  him  chuckling  grimly. 
"  Happen  he'll  larn  some  day  'at  a  mon's  feet  are 
for  feightin'  wi'  as  weel  as  his  honds." 

The  unexpectedness  of  the  blow  so  astonished  the 
men  that  they  stood  blankly  gazing  from  one  to  the 
other  and  wondering  how  it  was  done.  Then  all  of 
a  sudden,  with  as  little  warning  as  they  themselves 
had  given,  a  volley  of  shot  belched  in  amongst  them, 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         301 

dropping  three  of  them  in  their  tracks,  while  lolyn, 
with  Shon  Goch  and  the  Dolben  sentinel,  fell  upon 
them  like  wolves  upon  a  prey. 

The  movement  was  swift  as  it  was  deadly.  The 
Dolben  man,  fierce  to  retrieve  his  disgrace,  leaped 
past  the  other  two  and  seized  the  nearest  foe.  That 
one  in  turn  clutched  at  the  next  man  to  save  him- 
self and  in  that  instant  all  three  went  over  the  edge 
together;  growls,  oaths  and  screams  commingling 
as  they  went  whirling  down  through  the  black  abyss 
to  the  bloody  mead  below.  Shon  Goch  with  his 
clubbed  carbine  drove  down  another  corpse,  while  a 
fourth  man,  firing  at  him  with  extended  pistol, 
received  a  blow  in  the  neck  from  lolyn's  broad  bido- 
gan  that  sent  him  to  join  his  fellows  in  the  glyn. 

That  one  was  the  last,  for  previously  lolyn,  seiz- 
ing a  torch  from  the  ground,  had  ripped  up  one  in 
the  cave  mouth  as  he  rose,  and  then,  heedless  of  the 
slash  that  laid  the  side  of  his  head  and  face  open, 
had  driven  the  heavy  blade  into  the  next  man's 
brain,  withdrawing  the  ghastly  weapon  in  time  to 
half  behead  the  one  who  had  wounded  Shon  Goch. 
Then  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  crouching  figure  of  John 
Chapel  and  the  red  steel  lifted  instantly  with  the 
impulse  to  despatch  him. 

But  Ned  had  risen    to   his   feet.      "  Nay,   lad," 


302         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO 

cried   he;    "  ston'    out  o'    th'   gate    till  Aw  punce 
him  to  t'  dyeth  gradely  this  time." 

lolyn  turned,  lowering  his  weapon.  "  Oh!  then 
you  are  safe,  Ned  ?" 

"  Aye  an'  so  are  t'  other  two,"  answered  he. 
"  Now  ston'  wide  till  Aw  show  this  Chapel  'at  Aw 
dorn't  need  honds  to  kill  sich  a  mak  as  him." 

"Nay,  Ned;  neither  boot  nor  bidogan :  we'll 
hang  him  !  hang  him  !  "  the  lad's  voice  rose  in  frenzy 
with  the  words  and  Ned,  noting  the  glare  in  his 
eyes,  drew  back  and  yielded. 

'  Yigh,  we'n  hang  him  wi'  this  rope  he  teed  my 
honds  wi'.  It  comes  in  just  reet,  John,"  he  went 
on  in  iron  jest  to  the  doomed  villain. 

But  Chapel,  sick  as  he  was,  did  but  snarl  and  spit 
at  him,  showing  his  teeth  like  a  trapped  wild  beast, 
and  when  Shon  Goch,  in  spite  of  his  wounded  arm, 
strode  over  to  help  lolyn  to  untie  Ned's  bonds,  he 
made  a  limp  movement  as  if  he  would  roll  off  the 
ledge  and  cheat  them  yet  by  suicide.  Instantly 
Shon  plumped  down  upon  him,  knocking  the  little 
remaining  wind  out  of  him,  and  he  lay,  gasping 
blood  curdling  curses  while  the  others  prepared  a 
noose. 

Then  the  rope  was  ready  and  Shon  Goch  rose  and 
stood  aside  while  Ned  stooped  to  fit  the  cord  to  the 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         303 

villain's  neck.     With  a  swift  snap  Chapel  closed  his 
teeth  on   Ned's  right   hand  and  at  the  same  time 
making  a  mighty  effort,  caught  him  by  the  throat 
with  both  hands,  growling   and   shaking  him  with 
dog  like  ferocity.     Straightway  with  a  great  oath 
Shon  brought  the  butt  of  his  carbine  upon  the  side 
of  the  growling  jaws,  smashing  them  out  of  all  sem- 
blance, and  Ned  lifted  his  mangled  hand,  showing 
it  streaming  with  blood  in  the  torchlight. 
'  Up  with  him  !  "  shouted  lolyn. 
They   dragged    the    doomed    man    to    his    feet. 
They  fitted  the  noose  to  his  neck.     They  passed 
the  rope  over  the  limb    above.       "Now!"    cried 
Shon  Goch,   "  Yo  ho!  heave  oh!" — and  then  the 
body  of  John  Chapel  was  swinging  and  kicking  con- 
vulsively  between    heaven    and    earth,   paying   the 
dread  penalty  to  which  his  treachery  had  doomed 
so  many  others. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

THERE  was  no  time  for  lagging  however.  Almost 
before  the  grisly  pendant  of  the  oak  had  ceased  to 
quiver,  Ithel  and  Mari  had  been  apprised  of  their 
rescue,  and  the  wounds  of  the  three  had  been 
roughly  and  hastily  bandaged.  With  the  same 
speed  and  inspiration  the  lovers  seemed  to  realize 
that  the  future  held  but  one  course  for  them,  and 
that  lolyn's  argument  was  unanswerable  when,  as 
delicately  as  he  could,  he  insisted  that  they  should 
be  forthwith  married  and  then  take  ship  at  once 
with  Shon  Goch  for  France. 

"  Mari  is  a  virtual  outlaw  now  and  she  can  never 
go  back  to  London,"  he  went  on.  '  The  well 
wedding,  too,  is  just  as  binding  to-day  as  it  ever 
was.  Look  through  the  books  of  pedigrees  and 
you  will  find  shield  on  shield  whose  quarterings 
come  from  such  marriages.  Everything  is  ready 
and  the  curate  of  Henllan  is  waiting  for  us  at  the 
well — for  so  I  arranged  with  him  before  I  went  the 
second  time  to  Rhuddlan  for  Shon  Goch. 

"  And    we    must    make    haste    before    we    are 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO         305 

attacked  again ;  for  a  troop  of  dragoons  marched 
into  Llanelwy  (St.  Asaph)  this  evening,  only  three 
miles  away." 

Not  even  one  poor  minute  could  be  spared 
wherein  Mari  might  have  endeavoured  to  seize  and 
possess  her  own  soul  against  the  surging  emotions 
of  the  moment.  The  hour  brooked  no  delay  and 
thus  at  the  mid  of  the  summer  night  a  grimly 
pathetic  procession  issued  from  the  cave  and  along 
the  ledge  for  the  trail  to  Ffynnon  Fair.  lolyn,  his 
head  all  bandages,  led  the  way,  torch  aloft  and 
weapon  ready.  Next  came  Shon  Goch,  arm  in 
sling,  supporting  Mari,  whose  eyes  were  bound  that 
she  might  not  see  the  corpse  which  dangled  in  the 
cavern's  mouth,  or  the  ghastly  stain  that  glistened 
underfoot.  Lastly  Ned,  his  hand  tied  up,  more 
than  half  carried  the  wan,  weak  frame  of  Ithel — 
surely  as  strange  a  wedding  procession  as  ever 
sought  the  altar. 

With  eager  haste  they  descended  through  the 
wood  and  crossed  the  mead  till  they  reached  the 
ruined  chapel  of  Our  Lady,  where  the  first  flash  of 
the  torch  discovered  the  grey  old  curate  beside  the 
well,  standing  impassively  ready  for  the  ceremony. 
Then  the  two  lovers  took  their  places,  kneeling  on 
the  curb  of  the  outer  trench  of  the  fount,  and  with- 


306         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO 

out  a  whisper  of  preliminary  the  parson  proclaimed 
the  banns. 

Three  several  times  he  cried  them,  the  smoky 
light  of  the  torch  turning  the  tinkling  water  at  his 
foot  into  a  sheet  of  quivering  fire,  and  making  the 
roofless  chapel  all  eerie  to  the  sight. 

And  at  the  last  word  lolyn  answered,  "  No  one 
denies  us.  Proceed  !  " 

Then  from  the  printed  page  the  words  began, 
until — "  Who  giveth  this  bride  ?  "  cried  the  curate. 

Straightway  lolyn  stepped  to  the  other  lip  of  the 
well,  his  head  all  red  in  the  dripping  bandages,  the 
grisly  bidogan  flashing  in  his  hand  as  he  answered, 
"  I  give  this  bride.  I  give  her!"  Then  plunging 
the  blade  without  a  splash  into  the  water,  he  laved 
it  clean,  crying  as  he  did  so,  "  No  one  denies  me. 
Proceed!" 

' '  With  this  ring—' '  But  Ithel  did  not  hesitate  for 
lack  of  a  golden  band.  Reaching  up,  he  plucked  a 
tendril  of  the  ivy  which  hung  down  over  the  broken 
wall.  The  leaves  were  small  upon  it  and  interfered 
but  little  as  he  twined  it  tenderly  round  the  finger  of 
his  bride,*  tying  it  fast  in  a  soft  knot  of  glinting  green. 

*  The  ring  is  not  so  all  important  in  Welsh  mountain  weddings. 
The  loop  of  the  Church  door  key,  and  even  a  piece  of  string,  have 
served  before  now  to  tie  two  fond  hearts  together. 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         307 

In  another  moment  the  words  were  ended  and  the 
two  drank  together  of  the  Fount  of  the  Chapel  to 
bind  them  man  and  wife,  linked  in  as  iron  a  bridal 
as  ever  a  pair  could  wish. 

lolyn  stood  fast  till  the  rest  had  passed  out  and 
then,  as  the  last  foot  crossed  the  threshold,  plunged 
the  torch  into  the  water.  "  So  may  all  their  troubles 
be  extinguished,"  cried  he. 

"  Amen!  "  concluded  the  curate  from  without. 

Still  with  the  same  stint  of  time  the  brockle  faced 
horse  was  brought  out  again  and  Meredith  straight- 
way hoisted  into  the  saddle.  The  curate  kissed 
the  bride  gallantly  as  he  helped  her  up  to  the  pillion 
behind,  and  then  lolyn  took  the  hag's  head  and 
struck  out  for  Rhuddlan ;  Shon  Goch  and  Ned 
walking  one  on  each  side  to  assist  Mari  in  keeping 
her  husband  from  falling. 

In  spite  of  frequent  rests  for  Ithel's  sake  dawn  saw 
them  safely  aboard  and  the  "  Myvanwy  "  dropping 
down  with  the  tide  along  the  edge  of  Morva  Rhudd- 
lan. But  as  they  passed  the  then  tenantless  sand- 
hills of  Rhyl,  lolyn  turned  to  Ned  who  stood  beside 
him.  The  other  two  were  safely  in  the  cabin. 

Here,  Ned,"  said  he,  "  take  the  purse  now. 
There  will  be  enough  to  keep  you  all  going  till  you 
can  hear  from  Ithel's  kindred — for  you  will  have  to 


308         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

stay  and  look  after  the  two  of  them  in  France  till 
Ithel  is  strong  again.  Tell  Mari  that  I  am  gone  to 
see  what  I  can  do  for  Pengraig — and  Maddox. 

"  And  now,  good  bye,  Ned :  and  all  that  I  have  is 
to  go  to  you  if  anything  happens  to  me.  Good 
bye ! ' ' 

'  Thee  be  d d!  "  broke  out  Ned,  letting  the 

purse  drop  on  the  deck,  as  he  stepped  back  to  avoid 
it.  Then  he  darted  forward  to  clutch  lolyn,  but  too 
late,  for  the  lad  had  leaped  his  farthest  overboard 
and  was  swimming  for  the  tufted  shore.  One 
instant  Ned  hesitated  and  then  the  strange  smile  on 
the  other's  upturned  face  struck  into  his  heart  with 
the  hopelessness  of  any  attempt  to  change  that 
iron-set  will,  and  so  he  stood,  silencing  Shon  Goch 
with  a  word  and  a  touch,  while  he  watched  his  late 
companion  cleaving  the  grey  waters  in  momentary 
widening  of  the  distance  between  them. 

He  saw  him  touch  the  bottom :  he  saw  him 
wade  the  three  strides  to  the  strand,  and  then, 
as  he  gazed,  the  lad  turned  upon  the  top  of  the 
nearest  sandhill  and  waved  his  hand  in  final  part- 
ing. 

One  long  look  and  one  long  stride  and  then  he 
had  vanished  into  the  hollow  beyond. 

"Lad!  lad!"    broke  forth    the  watcher  on    the 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO         309 

deck:  "  Aw's  ne'er  see  thee  agen  i'  this  world — an' 
Aw'd  liever  ha'  lost  a  brother!  " 

But  while  Ned  hesitated  on  deck,  finally  binding 
Shon  Goch  to  keep  the  secret  of  lolyn's  leaving 
till  they  should  be  well  on  their  way  for  France,  the 
one  he  mourned  for  was  lying  in  a  gap  of  the 
dunes,  straining  his  gaze  after  the  swelling  sail  as 
the  breeze  caught  it  upon  the  free  waters  of  the 
open  sea.  The  little  gusts  darkened  after  it,  crest- 
ing softly  white  the  line  where  they  reached  the 
black  hull's  quarter;  the  foam  track  churned  in  the 
wake  of  her;  the  figures  on  deck  dimmed  and  died 
out,  undistinguishable  from  the  mass;  the  hull  itself 
drew  down,  and  then  only  the  canvas  stood  out  in 
the  rays  of  the  young  sun  of  a  soft  summer  morning 
— and  still  the  two  eyes,  changeful  in  their  light  as 
the  sea  they  struck  across,  strained  after  it. 

Then  from  a  mere  feature  of  the  coastline,  the 
bold  front  of  Rhiwleden  *  suddenly  lived  into  the 
picture,  planting  its  inexorable  foot  forward  into 
the  dark  glory  of  ocean  between  the  watcher  and 
the  thing  he  watched  so  hungrily.  "  Thus  far  hast 
thou  beheld ;  Oh  mortal  of  brief  years !  Now  is 
thy  vision  shut  out.  Turn  thee  and  weep,  for  thou 
shalt  see  them  never  more.  And,  yet;  though  thou 

*  Called  in  English,  "  The  Little  Orme." 


310         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

mayest  find  it  iron-hard  of  belief,  The  High  God 
still  sits  immovable  over  ye  all!  " 

And  with  a  passionate  cry  lolyn  flung  his  wounded 
face  forward  upon  his  arms  and  wept  his  last  tears 
on  earth. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

MEANWHILE  the  final  tragedy  had  begun  in  Lon- 
don, where,  on  the  23rd  of  June,  the  special  com- 
mission assembled  in  the  Town  Hall  of  St.  Marga- 
ret's to  try  the  Jacobite  prisoners.  This  was  while 
Mari  was  on  her  voyage  to  Chester,  all  unwitting 
that  such  proceedings  were  so  near.  But  it  was  not 
till  the  1 8th  of  July  that  Pengraig  was  actually 
tried,  and  it  was  on  Tuesday,  the  22nd  of  the  same 
month,  that  he  and  sixteen  other  companions  in 
misfortune,  were  sentenced,  collectively  and  in 
block,  by  that  dread  formula. 

'  That  ye  be  taken  hence  to  the  prison  from 
whence  ye  came,  there  to  remain  till  upon  a  date  ye 
be  drawn  to  the  place  of  execution,  and  when  ye  are 
come  there,  that  ye  be  severally  hanged  by  the  neck 
—but  not  till  ye  be  dead,  for  ye  must  be  cut  down 
alive — that  your  bowels  be  then  taken  out  and 
burnt  before  your  faces;  that  your  heads  be  then 
severed  from  your  bodies  and  your  bodies  severally 
divided  into  four  quarters  and  those  to  be  at  the 
king's  disposal." 


312         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

To  this  barbarous  sentence  Pengraig  listened  little 
moved,  for  he  had  never  ceased  to  expect  it  from 
the  moment  when,  newly  captured,  he  had  come 
face  to  face  at  the  end  of  the  lane  with  his  infamous 
ward  and  betrayer.  Thus  it  came  to  him  now  but  as 
the  final  milestone,  telling  of  the  nearness  of  his 
journey's  end ;  for  he  had  spoken  truly  when,  turn- 
ing for  that  last  long  look  at  Derby,  he  had  ex- 
claimed that  in  that  moment  the  bitterness  of  death 
had  passed  his  soul  for  ever. 

Within  the  prison  his  immediate  friends  were  the 
officers  of  the  ill-fated  Manchester  Regiment,  and 
he  and  they  were  together  when,  at  two  o'clock  on 
the  29th  of  July,  the  order  arrived  for  the  execution 
next  morning  of  himself;  Francis  Towneley;  George 
Fletcher;  Thomas  Chadwick;  James  Dawson,  and 
others,  all  of  the  same  regiment.  The  doomed  men 
heard  the  warning  with  a  manly  cheerfulness  born 
of  their  unshakeable  belief  in  the  sacredness  of  their 
loyalty  to  the  Stuart  Cause.  Men  of  stainless  faith 
and  courage,  their  original  sense  of  the  justice  of 
their  conduct  in  taking  up  arms  had  been  fired  and 
exalted  by  daily  intercourse  with  each  other,  and 
above  all  by  the  passionate  words  of  Pengraig  as  he 
poured  forth  his  poet's  soul  in  indignant  refutation 
of  the  foul  libels  which  political  hacks  turned  out 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE  OF  ARNO         313 

unceasingly,  all  with  the  one  object  of  vilifying  and 
misrepresenting  the  motives  and  characters  of  the 
doomed  men  and  their  cause. 

At  his  instigation  it  was  that  each  of  his  fellow- 
sufferers  had  already  drawn  up  a  statement  and  a 
justification  of  the  faith  that  was  in  him,  together 
with  a  reiteration  of  the  steadfast  loyalty  which  had 
led  them  all  to  this  supreme  witnessing. 

So  now,  when  the  words  were  ended  which  told 
them  that  tomorrow  was  the  last  day  which  should 
dawn  for  them  this  side  Eternity,  the  cheerful  light 
that  broke  over  Pengraig's  face  went  round  the 
whole  group  as  each  re-echoed  his  deep  and  fervent 
resignation,  "  God's  will  be  done!  " 

The  mournful  news  soon  spread  through  the  town 
and  evening  brought  the  hardest  hour  of  all,  when 
the  friends  and  kindred  of  the  doomed  came  in  to 
take  their  last  farewell.  What  mind  is  there  which 
can  picture  that  hour  unmoved  ?  the  tears,  the  sighs, 
the  terrible  sobs  which  shook  the  forms  of  the  deli- 
cate women ;  some  so  soon  to  be  so  awfully  widowed ; 
all  to-  lose  those  whom  they  loved  devotedly,  and 
one,  distraught,  who  was  to  prove  the  depth  of  her 
love  for  poor  Dawson  by  dying  at  the  sight  of  his 
death  next  day — these  made  a  scene  to  think  of 
which  yet  thrills  the  soul  with  horror. 


314        FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

And  through  it  all,  not  with  stoical  indifference; 
not  with  the  scoffing  levity  which  jests  at  God  and 
deems  irreverence  the  barb  of  wit ;  but  with  a  calm 
and  manly  resignation ;  with  that  gentle  firmness 
and  tender  strength  best  becoming  Christian  gentle- 
men in  the  shadow  of  the  Bar  Eternal,  the  prisoners 
kept  their  fortitude  amidst  the  wild  abandonment 
with  which  their  friends  bewailed  them. 

The  merciful  sternness  of  the  jailer's  orders  cut 
short  the  torture  at  last.  A  callous  kindliness 
forced  asunder  the  convulsive  entwinings  and  loosed 
the  last  embraces.  The  clang  of  barred  doors 
drowned  the  last  wail  of  grief;  the  grind  of  .grim 
locks  shut  out  the  last  sob  of  bursting  hearts,  and 
all  was  once  more  silent  in  the  cells  of  the  doomed 

"  they  went  to  rest  at  the  usual  hour  and  slept 
well!" 

Next  morning  when  they  were  roused  the  con- 
demned men  were  unfastened  from  the  floor,  to 
which  they  had  before  been  chained,  and  were 
further  allowed  to  descend  to  the  courtyard  of  the 
prison  for  an  hour's  exercise.  They  might  have 
been  going  to  saunter  in  some  pleasant  garden  of 
flowers  and  singing  birds,  so  cheerfully  they  went, 
each  walking  with  his  own  particular  friend.  Pen- 
graig  and  Towneley  were  first  and  as  the  former 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         315 

caught  sight  of  the  prison  caterer  he  spoke  to  him 
with  playful  sternness.  "  Ha!  now  you  shall  make 
us  some  coffee  to  breakfast.  And  I  warn  you  to 
make  it  good  and  strong,  for  I  have  never  drunk 
any  since  I  have  been  here  that  was  fit  to  come  near 
a  gentleman." 

A  smile  went  round  the  whole  company  as  they 
heard  the  words.  "  Still  looking  after  us,  father," 
said  Towneley  in  gentle  jest;  "  but  you  will  have 
little  more  trouble  with  us,  I  fear." 

"  And  yet,"  he  went  on  after  a  moment's  pause; 
"  there  is  one  more  thing  which  we  would  have  you 
do.  At  the  last  moment  we  cannot  all  speak  at 
once,  and  therefore  we  think  it  would  be  well  if  one 
should  speak  for  all — and  that  one  you,  dear  friend. 
Will  you  add  this  last  favour  to  the  many  you  have 
already  done  to  us  ?  " 

And  so  that  point  was  settled,  for  Pengraig  could 
not  refuse. 

Breakfast  over,  their  irons  were  struck  off  and 
then  they  were  pinioned.  Next,  after  a  short  inter- 
val, they  were  tied,  head  downward,  on  three 
sledges  each  drawn  by  three  horses,  and  presently 
the  great  gates  of  the  prison  opened  to  give  them 
egress  upon  their  last  journey.  With  a  refinement 
of  cruelty  the  sledges  were  accompanied,  not  only 


316         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

by  the  executioner,  but  also  by  "  certain  butchers 
of  the  town"  in  ghastly  presage  of  the  hideous 
office  they  were  presently  to  perform  in  the  mutila- 
tion of  those  beside  whom  they  now  strode  with 
steels  and  choppers  clanking. 

The  melancholy  procession  was  surrounded  and 
guarded  by  a  troop  of  dragoons  and  several  com- 
panies of  the  Foot  Guards,  while  all  around  pressed 
a  jeering  mob,  the  scum  of  every  slum  in  a  city  of 
slums.  The  soldiers  marched  in  stern  silence,  but 
the  taunts  and  execrations  of  the  mob  rose  to  a  wild 
yell  of  delight  when,  upon  reaching  Kennington 
Common,  it  was  seen  that  the  gallows  was  ready, 
and  close  beside  it  a  huge  pile  of  faggots  and  a 
block. 

No  minister  of  the  Established  Church  nor  priest 
of  Rome  had  been  allowed  to  attend  for  the  admin- 
istration of  the  last  solemn  consolations  of  religion  to 
those  about  to  die.  Yet,  still  undaunted,  Pengraig, 
kneeling,  book  in  hand,  read  prayers  and  medita- 
tions while  his  companions,  kneeling  also,  followed 
the  words  earnestly  and  joined  with  fervent  voices  in 
the  prayers  he  offered.  No  faltering,  no  wailing; 
tears  all  done  and  eyes  turned  consecrately  forward ; 
earth  with  all  its  hopes  put  firmly  yet  tenderly 
behind  them ;  these  nine  heroic  souls  knelt  in  sad 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         317 

valour  beneath  the  gallows,  nor  suffered  the  sound 
of  the  crackling  flames  beside  them  to  shake  the 
hearts  so  soon  to  be  consumed  therein. 

Nor  when  at  length,  devotions  ended,  they  stood 
upright  once  more,  were  there  any  recantations,  real 
or  simulated,  of  their  faith  to  the  Stuarts,  or  any 
admission  of  the  rights  of  the  usurper.  Such 
things  they  left  to  others  who  might  be  moved  by 
considerations  beyond  their  simple  comprehensions. 
Instead,  Pengraig,  with  firm  utterance,  made  the 
short  speech  which  he  had  promised  to  make,  reiter- 
ating their  ideas,  comparing  the  respective  rights 
and  merits  of  Stuart  and  Hanover;  rebutting  yet 
again  with  infinite  scorn  the  infamous  report  that 
they  themselves  had  offered  to  recant  upon  a  prom- 
ise of  pardon;  and  freely  forgiving  all  their  enemies 
from  the  usurper  down  to  Weir  and  Maddox;  finally 
ending  with — "  And  lastly,  we  beg  all  we  have 
offended  that  they  will  forgive  us  for  the  sake  of 
Jesus  Christ;  Our  Mediator  and  Advocate.  Amen." 

With  the  concluding  word  Pengraig  took  the 
papers  of  his  own  declaration  out  of  the  book  of 
devotions  which  he  held  in  his  hand  and  flung  them 
amongst  the  crowd ;  following  them  up  with  the 
book  itself  and  next  with  his  gold  laced  hat.  So 
likewise  did  the  rest. 


318         FOR    THE  WHITE.  ROSE   OF  ARNO      , 

And  now  on  their  part  remained  no  more  to  be 
said,  no  more  to  be  done.  The  cart  was  ready,  the 
ropes  were  adjusted,  the  signal  given,  the  wheels 
moved — and  they  were  gone  to  where  there  is  only- 
Infinite  Pity  for  those  who  die  for  the  faith  that  is 
in  them,  be  it  never  so  mistaken. 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

JUST  as  this  first  part  was  done  there  fell  a  short 
commotion  in  the  ranks  of  the  infantry  guarding  the 
scaffold.  A  wild,  unkempt  and  ragged  figure  had 
attempted  to  thrust  through  and  reach  the  gallows. 
One  soldier  with  his  elbow  attempted  to  push  it 
back  and  at  once  received  a  blow  in  the  face  which 
sent  him  all  his  length.  Instantly  the  next  man 
brought  the  butt  of  his  musket  down  upon  the  rag- 
ged intruder's  head,  stretching  him  senseless. 

"  What  is  that  ? "  demanded  the  nearest  corporal 
sharply. 

"  Some  thief  or  cadger  pushing  through  to  see 
better,"  answered  the  private. 

But  it  was  neither  thief  nor  cadger  lying  there  so 
still  behind  the  ranks ;  it  was  poor  lolyn.  Through 
many  a  hindrance,  many  a  peril,  and  many  an  hour 
of  hiding  or  stealthy  progress,  he  had  at  length 
reached  London  only  too  late.  A  country  jail  had 
held  him  for  days  till,  with  incredible  toil  and 
patience,  he  had  worked  his  way  out  and  escaped. 
To  this  he  had  added  a  grim  stroke  of  daring,  for 


320         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

he  had  then  immediately  broken  into  the  house  of 
the  Justice  who  sentenced  him,  and  from  the  portly 
man's  own  bedroom  recovered  the  bidog  which  had 
been  taken  from  him  at  capture. 

Late  last  night  he  had  entered  London,  walking 
on  till  he  reached  the  top  of  Ludgate  Hill.  There 
he  paused,  and  his  mad  hatred  broke  into  a  dreadful 
muttering.  "  Ho!  you  that  murdered  my  mother! 
Ho!  that  usurping  line  whose  pressgangs  seized  my 
father!  All  the  marches  on  from  Preston  I  pictured 
the  ruin  of  you.  But  Maddox!  Maddox,  whose 
father  used  the  Usurper  to  seize  my  father  and  used 
you  tradesmen  to  ensure  the  hanging  of  my  mother: 
he  stepped  in ;  he  betrayed  us  and  turned  us  back. 
Tomorrow  Maddox  shall  pay  the  recompense 
and —  Here  the  blood  rushed  to  his  temples,  and 
out  through  the  mirk  of  midnight  rang  the  terrible 
cry  of  his  unappeased  mad  longing — "  And  then  I 
will  come  for  you,  ye  smug  batteners  upon  bloody 
laws !  And  you  shall  count  the  cost  in  blood  and 
ashes  when  I  gather  the  gutters  against  you!  " 

The  clatter  of  the  approacing  watch  had  roused 
him,  and  he  turned  and  made  his  way  to  Holborn 
and  the  labyrinths  and  rookeries  of  Newton  Street, 
where  fugitives  from  justice  were  then  surest  of 
shelter.  Here  he  intended  sleeping  no  more  than 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         321 

a  few  hours,  but  the  utter  exhaustion  of  his  now 
emaciated  body  prolonged  his  slumbers  till  late  next 
morning.  Awakening  then,  he  learnt  that  Pengraig 
had  already  been  carried  from  Newgate  to  execu- 
tion, and  the  news  stung  him  to  self-torment  for 
having  selfishly  slept  so  long,  as  he  considered  it. 
Dashing  away  at  top  speed  he  had  no  clearer  plan 
than  a  frenzied  notion  of  suddenly  falling  upon  the 
procession  of  prisoners  and  rescuing  Pengraig  single- 
handed. 

But  the  streets  were  vacant,  drawn  empty  by  the 
brutal  show  already  passed,  and  as  he  came  to  the 
common  and  saw  the  crowd  he  put  on  a  fresh  burst 
of  speed  in  hope  to  strike  a  blow  before  the  actual 
tragedy  should  commence. 

And  this  was  he,  breathless  and  spent  with  haste, 
weak  from  his  wanderings  and  the  still  raw  wound 
on  his  head  and  face,  who  had  come  up  just  as  the 
last  figure  fell  from  the  cart,  and  pushing  through 
had  been  unceremoniously  stretched  out. 

As  he  lay  there  in  merciful  unconsciousness  he 
did  not  see  the  horrible  details  that  followed.  He 
did  not  see  the  ghastly  work  of  quartering  knives 
and  choppers;  he  did  not  see  the  dripping  fingers 
that  tore  out  still  living  hearts  and  cast  them  into 
the  flames,  nor  hear  therewith  the  savage  formula, 


322         FOR    7 HE   WHITE  ROSE    OF  ARNO 

'  This  is  the  heart  of  a  traitor!" — But  he  roused 
in  time  to  hear,  when  the  hideous  butchery  was 
ended,  the  revolting  yell  of  the  executioner,  "  God 
save  King  George!  " 

He  stood  for  a  moment  like  one  dazed  and  then 
he  caught  the  commotion  at  the  edge  of  the  crowd 
beyond,  where  the  affianced  bride  of  young  Daw- 
son,  after  watching  every  stroke  of  the  mutilation  of 
her  lover,  had  finally  fallen  back  dead,  with  his  name 
upon  her  lips.  Striding  over  to  the  place  he  laughed 
vacantly  as  he  heard  the  story  from  one  of  the 
excited  bystanders.  Then  the  crowd  began  to  melt 
away  and  he  saw,  sitting  in  a  state  of  collapse  in  one 
of  the  coaches  beside  him,  the  wife  of  Pengraig. 

Stepping  up  to  the  window  he  took  a  paper  from 
his  breast  and  thrust  it  through  into  her  hand. 
"  Give  all  I've  got  to  Ned,"  said  he. 

The  touch  roused  her;  she  looked  into  his  face 
and  the  look  brought  all  the  old  wild  light  into  his 
eyes. 

"  Ho!  and  I  had  forgotten  Maddox  for  a  mo- 
ment," cried  he. 

"  Oh  heaven!  lolyn!  "  ejaculated  the  poor  lady 
in  fresh  grief,  forgetting  for  the  moment  his  outlawry 
and  the  danger  of  his  being  discovered. 

But  his  own  utterance  of  "  Maddox!  "  had  already 


FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO         323 

attracted  the  attention  of  two  persons  riding  past, 
and  at  the  name  "  lolyn !  "  one  of  them  turned 
instantly  to  the  other,  crying  excitedly:  "Gad! 
Weir!  Here  is  that  cursed  lolyn  too.  Call  the 
dragoons;  I'd  almost  sooner  the  other  came  to  life 
again  than  lose  this  one." 

The  lad  caught  the  speech.  He  took  the  hand  of 
his  past  benefactress  in  his  and  kissed  it  fervently. 
"  Good-bye,  mother  !  "  said  he.  "  Here  is  Gwgan 
Maddox." 

Then  he  turned  and  the  bidogan  was  bare  in  his 
hand  as  Maddox  stared  in  dumb  surprise  at  his 
altered  face,  recognising  nothing  save  the  lurid 
light  that  glowed  with  awful  fascination  from  his 
eyes.  A  convulsive  jerk  of  the  bridle  reins,  added 
to  the  animal's  own  instinctive  dread,  brought  the 
horse  round  with  a  whirl  to  escape.  But  it  was 
too  late. 

One  spring  of  the  ragged  figure  and  the  left  hand 
seized  the  rider  by  the  collar  and  dragged  him  from 
the  saddle.  His  heels  struck  the  ground ;  his  head 
was  stretched  backwards  over  the  avenger's  knee. 
The  heavy  bidogan  touched  the  taut  muscles  of  the 
throat  and  then,  while  the  bystanders  stood  paralysed 
in  beholding,  the  grim  steel  went  remorselessly 
through  flesh  and  through  joint,  and  as  the  grisly 


324         FOR    THE  WHITE  ROSE   OF  ARNO 

trunk  dropped  lifeless  to  the  ground,  the  self- 
appointed  executioner  stood  upright,  holding  aloft 
the  severed  head  as  he  cried  with  awful  distinctness. 
"  This  is  the  head  of  a  traitor!  God  save  King 
James!  " 

Weir  had  brought  the  near  dragoons.  They  fell 
upon  the  man  standing  there  in  red  triumph.  Their 
great  swords  swung  aloft  as  they  spurred  at  him. 
He  did  not  wait :  he  leaped  against  them  with  the 
bidogan.  Man  and  horse,  he  stabbed  remorselessly 
at  both  alike  as  the  riders  slashed  at  him.  Silent 
as  a  trapped  wolf,  terrible  as  a  cornered  tiger,  he 
thrust  and  hacked  until,  hewed  to  a  mere  trunk,  he 
lay  with  glazing  eyes  staring  fixedly  up  to  heaven — 
the  seared  brain  quiet  at  last ;  the  life  so  tragically 
begun  terribly  ended.  Under  the  swords  was  peace 
—death. 

THE   END. 


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"  Mr.  Weyman  is  a  brave  writer,  who  imagines  fine  things  and  describes  them 
splendidly.  There  is  something  to  interest  a  healthy  mind  on  every  page  of  his  new 
story.  Its  interest  never  flags,  for  his  resource  is  rich,  and  it  is,  moreover,  the  kind  of 
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a  knowledge  of  Fretich  character  and  French  landscape  that  was  surely  never  ac- 
quired at  second  hand.  The  beginning  is  wonderfully  interesting." — NEW  YORK  TIMES. 

"  As  perfect  a  novel  of  the  new  school  of  fiction  as  '  Ivanhoe  '  or  '  Henry  Esmond  ' 
was  of  theirs.  Each  later  story  has  shown  a  marked  advance  in  strength  and  treat- 
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Sxed  upon  one  or  both,  from  the  first  word  to  the  last,  that  we  live  in  their  thoughts 
and  see  the  drama  unfolded  through  their  eyes." — N.  Y.  WORLD. 

"  It  was  bold  to  take  Richelieu  and  his  time  as  a  subject  and  thus  to  challenge  com- 
parison with  Dumas's  immortal  musketeers;  but  the  result  justifies  the  boldness.  .  .  . 
The  plot  is  admirably  clear  and  strong,  the  diction  singularly  concise  and  telling,  and 
the  stirring  events  are  so  managed  as  not  to  degenerate  into  sensationalism.  Few 
better  novels  of  adventure  than  this  have  ever  been  written." — OUTLOOK,  NEW  YORK. 

"  A  wonderfully  brilliant  and  thrilling  romance.  .  .  .  Mr.  Weyman  has  a  positive 
talent  for  concise  dramatic  narration.  Every  phrase  tells,  and  the  characters  stanc 
out  with  life-like  distinctness.  Some  of  the  most  fascinating  epochs  in  French  history 
have  been  splendidly  illuminated  by  his  novels,  which  are  to  be  reckoned  among  the 
notable  successes  of  later  nineteenth-century  fiction.  This  story  of '  Under  the  Red 
Robe '  is  in  its  way  one  of  the  very  best  things  he  has  done.  It  is  illustrated  with 
vigor  and  appropriateness  from  twelve  full-page  designs  by  R.  Caton  Woodville." 

— BOSTON  BEACON. 

"  It  is  a  skillfully  drawn  picture  of  the  times,  drawn  in  simple  and  transparent 
English,  and  quivering  with  tense  human  feeling  from  the  first  word  to  the  last.  It  is 
not  a  book  that  can'  be  laid  down  at  the  middle  of  it.  The  reader  once  caught  in  its 
whirl  can  no  more  escape  from  it  than  a  ship  from  the  maelstrom." 

— PICAYUNE,  NEW  ORLEANS. 

"  The  '  red  robe '  refers  to  Cardinal  Richelieu,  in  whose  day  the  story  is  laid. 
The  descriptions  of  his  court,  his  judicial  machinations  and  ministrations,  his  partial 
defeat,  stand  out  from  the  book  as  vivid  as  flame  against  a  background  of  snow.  For 
the  rest,  the  book  is  clever  and  interesting,  ana  overflowing  with  heroic  incident. 
Stanley  Weyman  is  an  author  who  has  apparently  come  to  stay." — CHICAGO  POST. 

"  In  this  story  Mr.  Weyman  returns  to  the  scene  of  his  '  Gentleman  of  France,' 
although  his  new  heroes  are  of  different  mould.  The  book  is  full  of  adventure  and 
characterized  by  a  deeper  study  of  character  than  its  predecessor." 

— WASHINGTON  POST. 

"  Mr.  Weyman  has  quite  topped  his  first  success.  .  .  .  The  author  artfully 
pursues  the  line  on  which  his  happy  initial  venture  was  laid.  We  have  in  Berault,  the 
hero,  a  more  impressive  Marsac ;  an  accomplished  duelist,  telling  the  tale  of  his  own 
adventures,  he  first  repels  and  finally  attracts  us.  He  is  at  once  the  tool  of  Richelieu, 
and  a  man  of  honor.  Here  is  a  noteworthy  romance,  full  of  thrilling  incident  set  down 
by  a  master-hand." — PHILADELPHIA  PRESS. 


LONGMANS,  GEEEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  HITS  AYE.,  NEW  YOEK, 


FROM  THE  MEMOIRS 
OF  A  MINISTER  OF  FRANCE. 

Br  STANLEY  J.  WEYMAN, 

AUTHOR  OF  "A  GENTLEMAN  OF  FRANCE,"  "  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


With   36    Illustrations,   of   which    1  5   are  full-page. 
12mo,  Cloth,   Ornamental,  $1.25. 

"  A  collection  of  twelve  tales,  each  one  of  which  is  to  be  classed  as  a  masterpiece, 
so  subtle  and  strong  is  it  in  the  revelation  of  character,  so  impressive  its  portrayal 
of  the  times  and  the  scenes  with  which  it  deals.  .  .  .  Mr.  Weyman  has  produced 
a  really  brilliant  book,  one  that  will  appeal  alike  to  the  lovers  of  literature,  of  adven- 
ture, and  to  those  who  demand  in  fiction  the  higher  intellectual  quality.  .  .  .  The 
chances  are  that  those  who  take  it  up  will  not  put  it  down  again  with  a  page  or  even 
a  line  unread." — BOSTON  BEACON. 

"  To  read  these  merry  tales  of  adventure  and  to  lose  all  sense,  for  the  moment 
of  life  s  complexities,  is  a  refreshment ;  it  is  to  drink  again  at  the  pure  spring  of 
romance.  .  .  .  Weyman  ...  has  caught  more  of  the  inner  spirit  of  sixteenth 
century  life  than  any  romancer  since  Scott."— OREGONI AN,  PORTLAND,  ORE. 

"  These  briefer  tales  have  all  the  charm  and  attractiveness  that  attach  to  their 
authors  longer  romances,  and  many  of  the  leading  characters  of  the  latter  figure  in 
them.  He  catches  the  attention  of  the  reader  at  the  very  outset  and  holds  it  to  the  end  • 
while  his  skill  as  a  story-teller  is  so  great  that  his  characters  become  real  beings  to  us' 
and  the  scenes  which  he  describes  seem  actual  and  present  occurrences  as  he  narrates 
them."— SACRED  HEART  REVIEW,  BOSTON. 

"  The  form  given  to  this  series  of  brilliant  stories  is  that  of  personal  narrative,  and 
the  effect  is  heightened  by  constant  allusions  to  things  purporting  to  have  been  told 
elsewhere.  .  .  .  There  are  three  points  which  lift  this  book  above  the  level  of  ordi- 
nary fiction  founded  on  history  :  There  is,  as  we  have  said,  the  likeness  of  the  king, 
there  is  the  self-drawn  picture'of  Sully,  and  there  is  the  admirable  local  coloring  of  the 
time,  and  these  three  disclose  the  power  and  fidelity  of  Mr.  Weyman's  studies  of 
French  history  at  a  time  full  of  interest  and  replete  with  stirring  incident.  We  regard 
this  as  quite  equal  to  anything  we  have  seen  of  Mr.  W'eyman's  spirited  and  clever 
work." — THE  CHURCHMAN,  N.  Y. 

"  They  are  told  with  a  dash  and  spirit  that  set  the  blood  tingling,  and  lure  the 
reader  away  from  dull  decadence  to  days  of  gallantry  and  duels,  of  passion  and  dark 
intrigue."— THE  BOSTON  TRANSCRIPT. 

"In  the  line  of  what  may  be  called  historical  romance  Mr.  Weyman  stands  alone 
among  living  writers.  .  .  .  The  ingenuity  and  fertility  of  Mr.  Weyman's  mind, 
coupled  with  his  admirable  charm  in  story-telling,  have  made  this  collection  an 
excellent  companion  to  those  other  familiar  tales  of  French  romance  which  preceded 
it.  For  they  are  tales  pure  and  simple,  combining  all  the  charms  of  the  story-teller 
who  knows  when  he  has  exhausted  his  subject  and  has  the  good  art  to  stop.  Twelve 
stories  are  comprised  in  the  volume,  good  stories  all  of  them,  and  capitally  told.  A 
clever  old  man  was  Mr.  Weyman's  minister  of  France,  and  many  a  good  time  he  and 
King  Henry  had  together  when  they  went  out  searching  for  adventure." 

— CHICAGO  EVENING  POST. 

"These  short  stories  of  the  time  of  Henry  IV.  have  all  the  charm  which  have 
made  the  author's  romances  so  popular.  In  most  of  them  the  king  is  the  central 
figure,  and  many  of  the  noble  traits  of  character  which  endeared  him  to  his  generation 
are  skillfully  depicted.  No  one  can  fail  to  be  entertained  with  these  tales." 

—THE  LIVING  CHURCH. 

"  These  chapters  display  inventive  powers  of  a  high  order,  and  show  theirauthor's 
remarkable  insight  into  his  chosen  period  of  history.  Each  of  them  is  a  story  com- 
plete in  itself,  yet  the  character  of  the  great  minister  links  them  together  into  one  chain. 
Thev  are  more  than  interesting  ;  they  are  true  to  the  essential  facts  of  history,  with- 
out for  a  moment  becoming  dull  or  pedantic."— THE  DIAL,  CHICAGO. 


LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  FIFTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK. 


A  GENTLEMAN  OF  FRANCE. 

Being:  the  Memoirs  of  Gaston  de  Bonne, 
Sieur  de  Marsac. 

BY  STANLEY  J.  WEYMAN. 

AUTHOR    OF   "THE    HOUSE    OF  THE    WOLF,"   ETC. 


With  Frontispiece  and  Vignette  by  H.  J.  Ford. 
12mo,  Cloth,   Ornamental,  $1.25. 

11  One  of  the  best  novels  since  '  Lorna  Doone.'  It  will  be  read  and  then  re-read  for  the 
mere  -Measure  its  reading  gives.  The  subtle  charm  of  it  is  not  m  merely  transporting  the 
nineteenth-century  reader  to  the  sixteenth,  that  he  may  see  life  as  it  was  then,  but  in  trans- 
forming him  into  a  sixteenth-century  man,  thinking  its  thoughts,  and  living  its  life  iu  perfect 
touch  and  sympathy  ...  it  carries  the  reader  out  of  his  present  life,  giving  him  a  new 
and  totally  different  existence  that  rests  and  refreshes  him." — N.  Y.  WORLD. 

"  No  novelist  outside  of  France  has  displayed  a  more  definite  comprehension  of  the  very 
essence  of  mediaeval  French  life,  and  no  one,  certainly,  has  been  able  10  set  forth  a  depiction 
of  it  in  colors  so  vivid  and  so  entirely  in  consonance  with  the  truth.  .  .  .  The  characters 
in  the  tale  are  admirably  drawn,  and  the  narrative  is  nothing  less  than  fascinating  in  its  fine 
flavor  of  adventure." — BKACON,  BOSTON. 

"  We  hardly  know  whether  to  call  this  latest  work  of  Stanley  J.  Weyman  a  historical 
lomance  or  a  story  of  adventure.  It  has  all  the  interesting,  fascinating  and  thrilling  charac- 
teristics of  l»th.  The  scene  is  in  France,  and  the  time  is  that  fateful  evrntful  one  which 
culminated  in  Henry  of  Navarre  becoming  king.  Naturally  it  is  a  story  of  plots  and  intrigue, 
of  danger  and  of  the  grand  passion,  abounding  in  intense  dramatic  scenes  and  most  interest- 
ing situations.  It  is  a  romance  which  will  rank  among  the  masterpieces  of  historic  fiction." 

—ADVERTISER,  BOSTON. 

"  A  romance  after  the  style  of  Dumas  the  elder,  and  well  worthy  of  being  read  by  those 
who  can  enjoy  stirring  adventures  told  in  true  romantic  fashion.  .  .  .  The  great  person- 
ages of  the  time — Henry  III.  of  Valois,  Hemy  IV.,  Rosny,  Rambouillet,  Turenne — are 
brought  in  skillfully,  and  the  tragic  and  varied  history  of  the  time  forms  a  splendid  frame  in 
which  to  set  the  picture  of  Marsao's  love  and  courage  .  .  .  the  troublous  days  are  well 
described  and  the  interest  is  genuine  and  lasting,  for  up  to  the  verv  end  the  author  manages 
effects  which  impel  the  reader  to  go  on  with  renewed  curiosity.'1 — THB  NATION. 

"A  genuine  and  admirable  piece  of  work.  .  .  .  The  reader  will  not  turn  marry  pages 
before  he  finds  himself  in  the  grasp  of  a  writer  who  holds  his  attention  to  the  very  last  mo- 
ment of  the  story.  The  spirit  of  adventure  pervades  the  whole  from  beginning  to  end.  .  .  . 

It  may  be  said  that  the  narration  is  a  delightful  love  story.  The  interest  of  the  reader 
is  constantly  excited  by  the  development  of  unexpected  turns  in  the  relation  of  the  principal 
lovers.  The  romance  lies  against  a  background  of  history  truly  painted.  .  .  .  The 
descriptions  of  the  court  life  of  the  period  and  of  the  factional  strifes,  divisions,  hatreds  of  th- 
agc,  are  fine.  .  .  .  This  story  of  those  times  is  worthy  of  a  very  high  place  among  histori- 
cal novels  of  recent  years." — PUBLIC  OPINION. 

"  Bold,  strong,  dashing,  it  is  one  of  the  best  we  have  read  for  many  years.  We  sat  down 
for  a  cursory  perusal,  and  ended  by  reading  it  delightedly  through.  .  .  .  Mr.  Weyman 
has  much  of  the  vigor  and  rush  of  incident  of  Dr.  Conan  Doyle,  and  this  book  ranks  worthily 
heside  '  The  White  Company."  .  .  .  We  very  cordially  recommend  this  book  to  the  jaded 
novel  reader  who  cares  for  manly  actions  more  than  for  morbid  introspection." 

— THE  CHURCHMAN. 

"The  book  is  not  only  good  literature,  it  is  a  'rattling  good  story,'  instinct  with  the 
spirit  of  true  adventure  and  stirring  emotion.  Of  love  and  peril,  inirigue  and  fighting,  there 
is  plenty,  and  many  scenes  could  not  have  been  bettered.  In  all  his  adventures,  and  they 
are  many,  Marsac  acts  as  befits  his  epoch  and  his  own  modest  yet  gallant  personality.  Well- 
known  historical  figures  emerge  in  telling  fashion  under  Mr.  Weyman's  discriminating  and 
fascinating  touch." — ATHENAEUM. 

"I  cannot  fancy  any  reader,  old  or  young,  not  sharing  with  doughty  Crillon  his  admiration 
for  M.  de  Marsac,  who,  though  no  swashbuckler,  ha-  a  sword  that  leaps  from  its  scabbard  at  the 
breath  of  insult.  .  .  .  There  are  several  historical  personages  in  the  novel ;  there  is,  ol 
course,  a  heroine,  of  great  beauty  and  enterprise;  but  that  true  'Gentleman  of  France,*' 
M.  dr  Marsac,  with  his  perseverance  and  valor,  dominates  them  all." 

— Mr.  JAMES  PAVN  in  the  ILLUSTRATED  LONDON  NEWS. 


LONGMANS,  GKEEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  PIFTH  AVE.,  HEW  YOKE. 


MY  LADY  ROTHA. 

A  ROMANCE  OF  THE  THIRTY  YEARS'  WAR. 
BY  STANLEY  J.  WEYMAN. 

AUTHOR  OF  "A  GENTLEMAN  OF  FRANCE,"  "UNDER   THE   RED  ROBE," 
"THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  WOLF." 


With  Eight  Illustrations.    Crown  8vo,  $1.25. 


"  Few  writers  of  fiction  who  have  appeared  in  England  in  the  last  decade  have  given 
their  readers  more  satisfaction  than  Mr.  Stanley  J.  Weyman,  and  no  single  writer  ot  this 
number  can  be  said  to  have  approached  him,  much  less  to  have  equaled  him  iti  the  romantic 
World  of  the  historical  novel  ...  he  has  the  art  of  story-telling  in  the  highest  degree, 
the  art  which  instinctively  divines  the  secret,  the  soul  of  the  story  which  he  tells,  and  the 
rarer  art.  if  it  be  not  the  artlessness,  which  makes  it  as  real  and  as  inevitable  as  life  itself. 
His  characters  are  alive,  human,  unforgetable,  resembling  in  this  respect  those  of  Thackeray 
in  historical  li:ies  and  in  a  measure  those  of  Dumas,  with  whom,  and  not  inaptly,  Mr.  Wey- 
man has  been  compared.  His  literature  is  good,  so  good  that  we  accept  it  as  a  matter  of 
course,  as  we  do  that  of  Thackeray  and  Scott.  .  .  .  Mr.  Weyman's  historical  novels 
will  live.''— New  YORK  MAIL  AND  EXPRESS. 

"...  differs  signally  from  Mr.  Weyman's  earlier  published  works.  It  is  treated 
with  the  minuteness  and  lovingness  of  a  first  story  which  has  grown  up  in  the  mind  of  the 
author  for  years.  .  .  .  Marie  Wort  is  one  of  the  bravest  souls  that  ever  move- d  quietly 
along  the  pages  of  a  novel.  She  is  so  unlike  the  other  feminine  characters  whom  Weyman 
has  drawn  that  the  difference  is  striking  and  adds  significance  to  this  one  book.  . 
'  My  Lady  Rotha  '  is  full  of  fascinating  interest,  all  the  more  remarkable  in  a  work  adhering 
so  strictly  to  historical  truth." — EVENING  POST,  CHICAGO. 

"This  last  book  of  his  is  brimful  of  action,  rushing  forward  with  a  roar,  leaving  the 
reader  breathless  at  the  close  ;  for  if  once  begun  there  is  no  stopping  place.  The  concep- 
tion is  unique  and  striking,  and  the  culmination  unexpected.  The  author  is  so  saturated 
with  the  spirit  of  the  times  of  which  he  writes,  that  he  merges  his  personality  in  that  of  the 
supposititious  narrator,  and  the  virtues  and  failings  of  his  men  and  women  are  set  forth  in  a 
fashion  which  is  captivating  from  its  very  simplicity.  It  is  one  of  his  best  novels." 

— PUBLIC  OPINION. 

"Readers  of  Mr.  Weyman's  novels  will  have  no  hesitation  in  pronouncing  hisjust  pub- 
lished '  My  Lady  Rotha '  in  every  way  his  greatest  and  most  artistic  production.  We 
know  of  nothing  mpie  fit,  both  in  conception  and  execution,  to  be  classed  with  the  immortal 
Waverleys  than  this  his  latest  work.  ...  A  story  true  to  life  and  true  to  the  times 
which  Mr.  Weyman  has  made  such  a  careful  study."  —THE  ADVERTISER,  BOSTON. 

"  No  one  of  Mr.  Weyman's  books  is  better  than  '  My  Lady  Rotha  '  unless  it  be  '  Under 
the  Red  Robe,'  and  those  who  have  learned  to  like  his  stories  of  the  old  days  when  might 
made  right  will  appreciate  it  thoroughly.  It  is  a  good  book  to  read  and  read  again." 

— NEW  YORK  WORLD. 

"...  As  good  a  tale  of  adventure  as  any  one  need  ask  ;  the  picture  of  those  war- 
like times  is  an  excellent  one,  full  of  life  and  color,  the  blare  of  trumpets  and  the  flash  of 
stee)  -and  toward  the  close  the  description  of  the  besieged  city  of  Nuremberg  and  of  the 
battle  under  Wallenstein's  entrenchments  is  masterly." — BOSTON  TRAVELLER. 

"The  loveliest  and  most  admirable  character  in  the  story  is  that  of  a  young  Catholic  girl, 
while  in  painting  the  cruelties  and  savage  barbarities  of  war  at  that  period  the  brush  is  held 
by  an  impartial  hand.  Books  of  adventure  and  romance  are  apt  to  be  cheap  and  sensational. 
Mr.  Weyman's  stories  are  worth  tons  of  such  stuff.  They  are  thrilling,  exciting,  absorbing, 
interesting,  and  yet  clear,  strong,  and  healthy  in  tone,  written  by  a  gentleman  and  a  man  ol 
sense  and  taste." — SACKED  HEART  REVIEW,  BOSTON. 

"  Mr.  Weyman  has  outdone  himself  in  this  remarkable  book.  .  .  .  The  whole  story 
is  told  with  consummate  skill.  The  plot  is  artistically  devised  and  enrolled  before  the  read- 
er's eyes.  The  language  is  simple  and  apt,  and  the  descriptions  are  graphic  and  terse.  The 
charm  of  the  story  takes  hold  of  the  reader  on  the  very  first  page,  and  holds  him  spell-bound 
to  the  very  end."— NEW  ORLEANS  PICAYUNE. 


LONGMANS,  GEEEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  PIPTH  AVE.,  NEW  TOEK, 


THE  MATCHMAKER, 

A    NOVEL. 

BY  MRS.  L.  B.  WALFORD. 


Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $  1 .50. 


"  A  new  novel  by  the  author  of  '  The  Baby's  Grandmother '  and  '  Mr.  Smith '  is  always 
eagerly  anticipated  by  those  who  enjoy  a  love  story  told  with  a  charming  freshness  of  style, 
with  a  satirical  yet  good-natured  treatment  uf  human  foibles,  and  with  a  vivid,  witty,  and 
animating  use  of  that  sentiment  which  '  makes  the  world  go  round.'  .  .  .  'TheMaich- 
maker '  gives  a  piquant  hint  of  the  plot.  It  wi  1  be  found  one  of  the  most  delightful  of  its 
author's  works,  and  comes  in  good  time  to  amuse  people  worn  by  summer  weather." 

—  NKW  YORK  TRIBUNE. 

"  We  are  sure  that  anything  from  the  pen  of  L.  B.  Watford  will  be  interesting  and 
original.  There  is  always  enough  romance  about  these  novels  to  keep  them  from  any  sign  of 
dullness,  and  they  always  include  some  very  uncommon  types  well  worth  studying.  The 
Carnoustie  family  in  the  present  instance  is  one  to  keep  the  reader  constantly  on  the  qui 
vire  ...  a  well-told,  entertaining  story  of  interesting  people." 

— DETROIT  FREE  PRESS. 

"Sure  to  find  a  large  circle  of  refined  and  intelligent  readers.  The  story  is  constantly 
lighted  up  with  touches  of  humor,  and  the  picture  of  simple  family  life  and  the  feminine  occu- 
pations it  affords  is  natural  and  entertaining."— BEACON,  BOSTON. 

"...  A  fresh  and  interesting  picture  of  life  in  a  Scottish  castle,  and  introduces 
many  characters  notable  for  the  faithfulness  to  nature  with  which  they  .ire  drawn.  The  inci- 
dents are  interesting  enough  to  fix  the  attention  of  the  readtr  and  to  hold  it  until  the  closing 
chapter.'' — THE  ADVERTISKR,  PORTLAND.  • 

"Tells  what  befell  a  gay  London  girl  during  her  six  months'  sojourn  in  the  Scotch  castle 
of  some  old  fashioned  relatives.  .  .  .  The  story  is  a  good  one,  much  the  best  of  it  being 
the  delineation  of  the  stiff-necked  Carnoustie  family,  and  its  magisterial  dowager  and  its 
pathetic  and  comical  old  maids.''— BOSTON  TRAVELLER. 


NOVELS   BY   MRS.   L.   B.  WALFORD. 


In  Uniform  Binding.    Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  each  Volume,  $1  .OO. 


COUSINS. 

THE    BABY'S     GRAND- 
MOTHER. 

PAULINE. 

NAN. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  A  WEEK. 


TROUBLESOME  DAUGH- 
TERS. 

MR.   SMITH. 

DICK    NETHERBY. 

A  STIFF-NECKED  GEN- 
ERATION. 

THE  MISCHIEF  OF  MONICA 


LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &  00,,  91-93  PUTS  AVE.,  NEW  YORK. 


A  MONK  OF  FIFE. 

A    ROMANCE    OF    THE    DAYS    OF    JEANNE    D'ARC. 

Done  into  English  from  the  manuscript  in  the  Scots  College  of  Ratisbon 
BY  ANDREW    LANG. 


With  Frontispiece.     12mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1.25. 

"  Granting  that  Norman  Leslie  was  no  myth,  and  was  truly  admonished  by  his 
superior  to  set  down  these  facts  in  writing,  and  with  all  reverence  for  this  clever  monk, 
who  kept  such  an  excellent  account  of  the  exciting  scenes  he  witnessed  in  his  youth, 
we  must  believe  that  the  delightful  charm  which  pervades  this  quaintly  pathetic  tale 
is  due  to  no  one  as  much  as  to  Mr.  Lang.  The  Maid  of  Orleans  takes  a  clearer, 
sweeter  identity  for  his  telling,  and  the  reader  must  insist  upon  feeling  indebted  to 
this  incomparable  writer  for  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  touching  romances  given 
to  the  world  for  many  a  long  day." — CHICAGO  EVENING  POST. 

"  Mr.  Lang's  portrait  of  the  Maid  is  a  beautiful  one.  He  does  not  etherealize 
her  unduly— indeed  he  rather  insists  on  her  most  human  characteristics ;  and  his 
portrait  gains  in  lifelikeness  from  the  skill  with  which  he  has  woven  into  the  story  of 
her  career  as  an  inspired  prophet  and  leader,  little  incidents  showing  her  as  the  simple- 
hearted  girl.  The  hero  is  supposed  to  be  one  of  her  body-guard,  and  his  sweetheart 
one  of  her  near  friends.  Although  the  Maid  is  really  the  central  figure,  the  story  of 
the  lovers  and  the  dangers  of  the  hero  and  the  heroine  is  so  skillfully  woven  in  that 
the  book  is  nothing  like  a  history  of  France  at  the  time,  but  is  a  real  romance:  and 
because  it  is  a  real  romance  lets  us  into  the  spirit  of  the  time  better  than  any  history 
that  ever  was  or  could  be  written.  It  is  dangerous  to  prophesy  just  after  the  reading 
of  any  novel,  but  it  seems  to  us  that  this  is  one  of  the  novels  that  ought  to  live,  at 
least  for  a  generation  or  two." — COLORADO  SPRINGS  GAZETTE. 

"  A  very  charming  tale  of  the  days  of  Joan  of  Arc,  his  leading  characters  being 
chosen  from  the  band  of  Scotchmen  who  went  to  France  and  participated  in  the 
stirring  campaign  under  the  leadership  of  the  Maid  of  Orleans  which  rescued  France 
from  the  English.  The  many  readers  and  students  who  are  just  now  attracted  by  the 
revival  of  interest  in  the  character  and  achievements  of  Jeanne  D'Arc  should  by  all 
means  read  Mr.  Lang's  romance."— REVIEW  OF  REVIEWS,  N.  Y. 

"  The  story  is  admirably  told  in  a  style  which  reminds  one  of  Stevenson's  best 
work  in  historical  fiction." — BOSTON  TRAVELER. 

"  A  brilliant,  vivid,  dramatic,  and  historically  consistent  depiction  of  the  career  of 
that  wonderful  maiden  Joan  of  Arc  is  presented  by  Andrew  Lang  in  his  skillfully 
wrought,  close-textured,  and  adventurous  romance  called 'A  Monk  of  Fife.'  ...  It 
has  from  beginning  to  end  a  lifelike  coloring  that  the  sympathetic  reader  will  find 
nothing  less  than  enthralling." — BOSTON  BEACON. 

"Mr.  Lang  has  made  a  most  pleasing  and  readable  romance,  full  of  love  and 
fighting  adventures  and  exciting  episodes.  There  is  a  quaintness  about  the  recital  in 
keeping  with  the  period  and  which  is  an  added  charm.  The  story  of  Joan  of  Arc  has 
been  many  times  told,  but  never  any  more  interestingly  than  in  this  book." 

—BOSTON  TIMES. 

"  A  delightful  romance.  .  .  .  Mr.  Lang  has  made  admirable  use  of  his  material 
and  has  given  us  a  quaint  and  stirring  tale  that  is  well  worth  reading." 

— BROOKLYN  EAGLE. 

"  A  picture,  rich  in  detail,  of  the  days  of  the  Maid  of  Orleans  ;  and  it  is  abundantly 
clear  that  the  picture  is  drawn  by  one  who  knows  the  period,  not  only  in  its  dry, 
prosaic  sequence  of  battles  and  marches,  but  in  the  spirit  and  the  speech  of  the  time 
...  a  love  storv  hardlv  less  graceful  and  delicate  than'that  of  Aucassin  and  Xico- 
lete;  .  .  .  the  book  will  be  well  worth  reading  as  pure  romance,  by  turns  idyllic 
and  epic,  and  that  it  has  as  well  a  distinct  value  from  its  careful  presentation  of  a 
period  so  confusing  to  the  novice  in  history."— CRITIC,  N'.  Y. 


LONGMANS,  GBEEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  PIPTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YOKE. 


"CAN  THIS   BE   LOVE? 

A    NOVEL. 
BY  MRS.   PARR, 


With    Frontispiece   and   Vignette   by   Charles   Kerr. 
I2mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1.25. 


"A  wholesome  tale.  .  .  .  It  is  a  pleasant  story,  delightfully  told,  and  with  a  whole- 
some English  atmosphere." — BOOK  BUYER,  N.  Y. 

"  This  is  a  story  that  will  repay  the  time  spent  over  it.  Mrs.  Parr  is  a  strong  and  inter- 
esting writer.  Her  characters  are  live  characters,  and  the  incidents  through  which  they 
move  are  natural  and  realistic.  Her  present  story  is  throughout  an  exceptionally  interesting 
one,  and  the  reader  will  find  his  interest  in  it  kept  up  to  tne  end.  It  is  handsomely  printed 
on  good  paper." — CHRISTIAN  AT  WORK,  N.  Y. 

"The  touches  of  humor  .  .  .  are  pleasant;  the  descriptions  of  scenery  are  charm- 
ing :  the  plot  is  well  and  artistically  planned  and  executed  ;  but,  best  of  all,  the  whole  tone  of 
the  book  is  pure  and  free  from  morbidness,  and  one  can  read  it  from  cover  to  cover  without 
finding  the  taint  of  vulgarity  and  super-emotionalism  (to  call  it  by  the  most  polite  name) 
which  degrades  so  much  of  modern  fiction." — LITERARY  WORLD,  Boston. 

"  It  is  a  love  story  of  more  than  usual  interest  and  is  well  worth  reading.  .  .  .  The 
three  principal  persons  in  the  book  are  fine  character  studies,  and  the  story  is  strong  and 
interesting." — ADVERTISER,  Portland,  Me. 

"  Mrs.  Parr  has  given  us  an  altogether  charming  book." — TRAVELLER,  Boston. 

"  One  of  the  daintiest,  most  homelike  and  natural  stories  of  the  week  .  .  .  the  girl 
is  a  downright,  genuine,  substantial  girl,  like  the  girls  we  know  in  the  world  and  love." 

— COMMERCIAL  GAZRTTE,  Cincinnati. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE   WOLF, 

A    ROMANCE. 
BY  STANLEY   J.   WEYMAN, 

AUTHOR    OF    "  A   GENTLEMAN    OF  FRANCE,"   ETC. 


With    Frontispiece   and   Vignette    by   Charles   Kerr. 
12mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1.25. 


DOOK   live.    V^KITIL,   IN.    ». 

"  Recounted  as  by  an  eye  witness  in  a  forceful  way  with  a  rapid  and  graphic  style  that 
commands  interest  and  admiration. 

Of  the  half  dozen  stories  of  St.  Bartholomew's  Eve  which  we  have  read  this  ranks  first 
in  vividness,  delicacy  of  perception,  reserve  power,  and  high  principle." 

— CHRISTIAN  UNION,  N.  Y. 


—COMMERCIAL  ADVERTISER,  N.  Y, 


LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  FIFTH  AVE.,  NEW  YOBK. 


OLD    MR.  TREDGOLD. 

A   STORY    OF    TWO    SISTERS. 
BY  MRS.  M.  O.  W.  OLIPHANT, 

AUTHOR  OF  "CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD,"  "MADAM,"  ETC. 


Crown  8vo,  Buckram  Cloth,  $1.5O. 


"  Not  many  novelists  have  written  so  much  and  so  well  as  Mrs.  Oliphant.  Her 
present  novel  shows  her  at  her  best.  The  character-drawing  is  first  rate,  and  the 
story  as  a  story  is  full  of  interest." — PUBLISHERS'  CIRCULAR. 

"  When  we  open  one  of  Mrs.  M.  O.  W.  Oliphant's  books  we  know  that  we  shall 
find  a  clean,  wholesome,  vivid  story,  generally  ofa  domestic  character.  Such  a  charac- 
ter is  '  Old  Mr.  Tredgold.' 

The  book  is  one  that  can  be  best  enjoyed  in  a  cozy  room,  on  a  winter's  evening, 
with  no  one  to  hustle  you  to  bed  prematurely  or  to  break  in  upon  your  pleasure  with, 
irrelevant  talk."— COMMERCIAL  ADVERTISER,  N.  Y. 

"  An  extremely  clever  and  consistent  picture  of  a  spoiled  and  willful  girl,  devoted 
to  herself  and  to  nobody  else,  and  who,  to  the  reader's  possible  dissatisfaction,  has  not 
meted  out  to  her  poetic  justice.  The  story  is  readable  in  every  respect." 

— S.  F.  CHRONICLE. 

"  Again  does  Mrs.  Oliphant  show  her  remarkable  skill  in  character  painting." 

— BEACON,  BOSTON. 

"A  wholesome  tale  of  true  lives  and  true  loves,  and  the  persons  who-act  their 
parts  are  close  kindred  to  ourselves."— SUN,  BALTIMORE. 

"  Mrs.  Oliphant  has  as  many  American  readers  and  admirers  as  she  has  English, 
and  they  will  welcome  '  Old  Mr.  Tredgold  '  from  her  pen.  .  .  .  This  new  work 
has  all  the  characteristics  of  her  earlier  novels,  and  will  be  read  with  pleasure." 

— COMMERCIAL  GAZETTE,  CINCINNATI. 


THE    STORY    OF    ULLA, 

And  Other  Tales. 

BY  EDWIN  LESTER  ARNOLD, 

AUTHOR    OF    "  PHRA    THE    PHCENICIAN,"    ETC. 


12mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1.25. 


"  Remarkable  for  vigor  and  picturesqueness.  .  .  .  The  book  is  entertaining 
throughout,  and  will  be  eagerly  read  by  all  who  take  it  up."— SCOTSMAN. 

"  He  has  succeeded  in  giving  some  choice  bits  of  fiction,  and  there  is  not  a  dull 
page  in  the  book  from  beginning  to  end." — PROGRESS,  MINNEAPOLIS. 

"  Is  a  masterpiece  of  graphic  and  dramatic  writing." — WORLD,  CLEVELAND. 

"  This  is  a  volume  of  ten  short  stories,  pitched  in  various  keys,  and  set  in  various 
eras  of  the  world's  history,  from  the  old  Viking  time  down  to  Dashville,  far  '  out  West.' 
They  are  all  strange,  out  of  the  common,  and  alive  with  interest  .  .  .  a  volume  full 
of  variety,  written  in  good  style,  and  with  nothing  commonplace." — LIVING  CHURCH. 


LONGMANS,  GKEEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  FIFTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YOBK 


FLOTSAM;. 

THE    STUDY    OF   A    LIFE. 

BY  HENRY  SETON   MERRIMAN, 

AUTHOR     OF     "WITH     EDGED     TOOLS,"     "THE     SOWERS,"     ETC. 

With    Frontispiece    and    Vignette    by    H.   G.    MASSEY. 
1  2mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1.25. 


"  The  scene  of  this  thoroughly  interesting  book  is  laid  at  the  time  of  the  great 
Indian  mutiny  of  1857,  and  the  chapters  devoted  to  that  terrible  episode  in  the  history 
of  English  rule  in  India  are  among  the  most  interesting  in  the  volume,  the  capture  of 
Delhi  in  particular  being  graphically  described." — HERALD,  ONEONTA,  N.  Y. 

"  It  is  a  powerful  study." — CINCINNATI  COMMERCIAL  GAZETTE. 

"One  of  the  strongest  novels  of  the  season." — BOSTON  ADVERTISER. 

"It  is  decidedly  a  novel  worth  reading.1'— NEW  ENGLAND  MAGAZINE. 

"...  From  first  to  last  our  interest  in  the  dramatic  development  of  the  plot  is 
never  allowed  to  flag.  '  Flotsam  '  will  amply  sustain  the  reputation  which  Mr. 
Merriman  has  won." — CHARLESTON  NEWS  AND  COURIER. 

"  It  is  a  rather  stirring  story,  dealing  with  breezy  adventures  in  the  far  East,  and 
sketching  in  strong  outlines  some  very  engaging  phases  of  romance  in  India  not  down 
in  Mr.  Kipling's  note-books." — INDEPENDENT,  NEW  YORK. 

"  It  is  a  novel  of  strong,  direct,  earnest  purpose,  which  begins  well  in  a  literary 
sense  and  ends  better."— SUN,  BALTIMORE. 

"  A  brilliant  gift  for  characterization  and  dramatic  effect  put  his  novels  among 
the  best  of  the  season  for  entertainment,  and,  to  no  small  extent,  for  instruction." 

—DIAL,  CHICAGO. 

"  Mr.  Merriman  can  write  a  good  story  ;  he  proved  that  in  '  The  Sowers,'  and  he 
shows  it  anew  in  this.  .  .  .  The  story  is  a  strong  one  and  told  with  freshness  and 
simple  realism."— CURRENT  LITERATURE,  NEW  YORK. 

"  His  story  is  remarkably  well  told."— HERALD,  COLUMBIA,  Mo. 

"  It  is  a  novel  written  with  a  purpose,  yet  it  is  entirely  free  from  preaching  or 
moralizing.  The  young  man,  Harry  Wylam,  whose  career  from  childhood  to  the 
prime  of  manhood  is  described,  is  a  bright,  daring,  and  lovable  character,  who  starts 
with  every  promise  of  a  successful  life,  but  whose  weakness  of  will,  and  love  of 
pleasure,  wreck  his  bright  hopes  midway.  The  author  shows  unusual  skill  in  dealing 
with  a  subject  which  in  less  discreet  hands  might  have  been  an  excuse  for  morbidity." 

—BOSTON  BEACON. 

"  A  story  of  lively  and  romantic  incident.  .  .  .  His  story  is  remarkably  well 
told."— NEW  YORK  SUN. 

"  The  story  is  full  of  vigorous  action     .     .     .     and  interesting." 

—PUBLIC  OPINION. 


LONGMANS,  GBEEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  FIFTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YOEK. 


THE  VIOLET. 

A  Novel. 
BY   JULIA    MAGRUDER, 

AUTHOR  OF  "  PRINCESS  SONIA,"  ETC. 

With   1  1  Illustrations  by  Charles  Dana  Gibson.    Crown  Svo, 
Cloth,  Ornamental,  Gilt  Top,  $  1 .25. 

"Julia  Magruder  has  made  a  very  pretty  story  of '  The  Violet  '—a  story  with  just 
those  touches  of  graceful  sentiment  that  are  sure  to  gratify  the  girl  reader.  ...  It 
is  a  pleasure  to  come  upon  a  romance  so  pure  in  motive,  so  refined  in  sentiment,  and 
so  delicate  in  manner  .  .  .  and  the  book  has  an  added  charm  in  the  illustrations 
by  Charles  Dana  Gibson,  who  seems  to  have  caught  the  spirit  of  the  text  to  a  nicety, 
and  to  have  interpreted  it  with  an  admirably  sympathetic  technique." 

—BEACON,  BOSTON. 

"Julia  Magruder  has  given  her  readers  a  charming  story  in  '  The  Violet ' — one  as 
sweet  and  simple  and  lovely  as  the  modest  flower  itself.  .  .  .  It  is  a  beautiful 
character  study,  breathing  forth  the  fragrance  of  womanly  sweetness  in  every  phrase. 
The  illustrations  by  Gibson  are  apt,  and  the  binding  and  make-up  of  the  book  appro- 
priately attractive." — TIMES,  BOSTON. 

"  Is  a  good,  wholesome  love  story.  The  plot  is  natural  and  the  characters  real. 
.  .  .  '  The  Violet '  is  a  study  which  the  reader  may  wish  could  have  been  pro- 
longed."—EAGLE,  BROOKLYN. 

"  A  story  altogether  as  beautiful  and  inspiring  as  its  name  .  .  .  one  of  the 
most  charming  books  of  the  season,  as  it  is  an  old  fashioned  story  with  a  delicious  bit 
of  mystery  interwoven  with  the  romance  of  a  young  heroine  who,  though  poor,  pos- 
sesses every  grace  and  accomplishment." — COURIER,  BOSTON. 

"  It  is  a  pure,  sweet  story,  with  a  fragrance  as  of  violets  clinging  to  it,  and  it  de- 
lightfully sets  forth  the  attributes  of  true  manhood  and  true  womanhood." 

— HOME  JOURNAL,  N.  Y. 


DOREEN. 

The  Story  of  a  Singer. 
BY    EDNA    LYALL, 

AUTHOR  OF  "WE  TWO,"  "DONOVAN,"  "THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  SLANDER,"  "  IN 
THE  GOLDEN  DAYS,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


Crown  Svo,  Buckram  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  .50. 

"  A  plot  which  has  original  life  and  vigor.  .  .  .  Altogether  a  good  novel,  and 
if  the  author  had  written  nothing  else  she  could  safely  rest  her  literary  reputation  on 
'  Doreen.'  " — PUBLIC  OPINION,  N.  Y. 

"  Edna  Lyall's  .  .  .  new  story  .  .  .  is  one  of  her  best.  It  has,  naturally, 
enough  of  tragedy  to  make  it  intensely  interesting  without  being  sensational  in  any 
offensive  sense.  The  heroine,  Doreen,  is  a  delightful  character,  sturdy,  strong,  lovable, 
womanly,  and  genuinely  Irish.  Miss  Bayly  is  a  conscientious  writer,  imbued  with 
deep  feeling,  a  high  purpose,  and  her  style  is  attractive  and  pure." 

— BOSTON  DAILY  ADVERTISER. 

"  It  is  a  very  clever  story  indeed,  and  skillfully  written." 

—NEW  ORLEANS  PICAYUNE. 

"  This  is  perhaps  one  of  the  best  of  Edna  Lyall's  clever  stories.  Doreen  is  a  young 
Irish  girl,  who  loves  her  native  land,  and  who  is  a  credit  to  her  race.  .  .  .  Inter- 
woven with  the  story  of  her  experience  and  of  her  love  for  a  young  Englishman  is  an 
interesting  account  of  the  rise  and  progress  of  the  Home  Rule  movement.  Miss  Lyall's 
book  is  a  charming  tale,  and  will  not  fail  to  delight  every  one  who  reads  it.  The  girl 
Doreen  is  a  beautiful  character." — CATHOLIC  NKWS. 


LONGMANS,  OBEEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  TIFTH  AVE.   NEW  YOKK. 


THE  JEWEL  OF  YNYS  GALON 

BEING   A    HITHERTO    UNPRINTED    CHAPTER    IN 
THE    HISTORY   OF   THE    SEA    ROVERS. 

BY  OWEN   RHOSCOMYL. 


With  1  2  Illustrations  by  Lancelot  Speed. 
Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1.25. 


"  The  tale  is  exceptionally  well  told  ;  the  descriptive  passages  are  strong-  and  viv- 
id without  being  over-elaborated  ;  and  the  recital  of  fights  and  adventures  on  sea  and 
land  is  thrilling,  without  leading  to  any  excess  of  horrors.  The  characters  in  the  book 
are  not  all  villians,  but  the  progress  of  the  narrative  is  lighted  up  by  the  ideals  and 
strivings  of  brave  and  honorable  men.  The  book  is  certainly  a  most  attractive  addi- 
tion to  fiction  of  adventure,  for  it  shows  a  fine  degree  of  imagination  on  the  part  of  the 
author.  A  glance  at  the  illustrations  by  Lancelot  Speed  will  alone  be  enough  to  incite 
a  reading  of  the  story  from  beginning  to  end.1'  —  THE  BEACON,  BOSTON. 

"  It  is  a  work  of  genius  —  of  the  romantic-realistic  school.  The  story  is  one  of 
pirates  and  buried  treasure  in  an  island  off  the  coast  of  Wales,  and  so  well  is  it  done 


that  it  fascinates  the  reader,  putting  him  under  an  hypnotic  spell,  lasting  long  after  the 
book  has  been  laid  aside.  It  is  dedicated  to  'every  one  whose  blood  rouses  at  a  tale 
of  tall  fights  and  reckless  adventure,'  to  men  and  boys  alike,  yet  there  will  be  keener 


,  , 

appreciation  by  the  boys  of  larger  growth,  whose  dreams  'of  buried  treasure  and  of 
one  day  discovering  some  hoard  whereby  to  become  rich  beyond  imagination  '  have 
become  dim  and  blurred  in  the  'toil  and  struggle  for  subsistence.'  '  The  Jewel  of  Ynys 
Galon'  is  one  of  the  great  books  of  1895  and  will  live  long."  —  THE  WORLD,  NEW  YORK. 

"  It  is  a  splendid  story  of  the  sea,  of  battle  and  hidden  treasure.  This  picture  of 
the  times  of  the  sea  rovers  is  most  skillfully  drawn  in  transparent  and  simple  English, 
and  it  holds  from  cover  to  cover  the  absorbed  interest  of  the  reader." 

—  PRESS,  PHILADELPHIA. 

"  It  is  a  story  after  the  heart  of  both  man  and  boy.  There  are  no  dull  moments  in 
it,  and  we  find  ourselves  impatient  to  get  on,  so  anxious  are  we  to  see  what  the  next 
turn  in  the  events  is  to  bring  forth  ;  and  when  we  come  to  the  end  we  exclaim  in 
sorrow,  "  Is  that  all?  "  and  begin  to  turn  back  the  leaves  and  re-read  some  of  the  most 
exciting  incidents. 

Owen  Rhoscomyl  has  just  the  talents  for  writing  books  of  this  kind,  and  thev  are 
worth  a  dozen  of  some  of  the  books  of  to-day  where  life  flows  sluggishly  on  in  a  draw- 
ing-room. When  the  author  writes  another  we  want  to  know  of  it."  —  TIMES,  BOSTON. 

"  The  style  of  this  thrilling  story  is  intensely  vivid  and  dramatic,  but  there  is 
nothing  in  it  of  the  cheap  sensational  order.  It  is  worthy  a  place  among  the  classics 
for  boys."  —  ADVERTISER,  BOSTON. 

"  The  present  school  of  romantic  adventure  has  produced  no  more  strikingly  im- 
aginative story  than  this  weird  tale  of  Welsh  pirates  in  the  eighteenth  century.  .  .  . 
A  most  enthralling  tale,  .  .  .  told  with  great  artistic  finish  and  with  intense  spirit. 
It  may  be  recommended  without  reserve  to  every  lover  of  this  class  of  fiction." 

—  TIMES,  PHILADELPHIA. 

"It  is  one  of  the  best  things  of  its  kind  that  have  appeared  in  a  long  time.  .  .  . 
We  do  not  know  how  far  this  tale  may  be  taken  to  be  historical,  and,  to  be  frank, 


get  '  The  Jewel  of  Ynys  Galon  '  and  rea'd  it.     You  will  not  be  disappointed." 

— GAZETTE,  COLORADO  SPRINGS,  COL. 

"  Our  own  interest  in  the  book  led  us  to  read  it  at  a  sitting  that  went  far  into  the 
night.  The  old  Berserker  spirit  is  considerably  abroad  in  these  pages,  and  the  blood 
coursed  the  faster  as  stirring  incident  followed  desperate  situation  and  daring  enter- 
prise."— LITKRARV  WORLD,  LONDON. 


LOMUANS,  GKEEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  PIPTH  AVE.,  UEW  YOKE. 


BATTLEMENT  AND  TOWER. 

A   ROMANCE. 

BY  OWEN  RHOSCOMYL, 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  JEWEL  OF  VNYS  GALON.' 


With    Frontispiece    by    R.    Caton   Woodville.       12mo,    Cloth, 
Ornamental,  $1.25. 

"  It  is  a  rare  tale  of  the  wars  of  the  Commonwealth.  The  hero,  Howel,  is  a  young 
Welsh  lord  whose  father  gives  him  his  hereditary  sword  and  shield,  and  sends  him  to 
battle  for  the  king.  His  adventures  in  love  and  war  are  intensely  fascinating,  and  the 
reader  puts  down  the  book  with  extreme  reluctance.  The  author  has  carefully  studied 
the  history  of  the  times,  and,  besides  being  a  thrilling  tale,  his  story  is  a  charming 
picture  of  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  day.  It  is  a  book  well  worth  reading." 

— NEW  ORLEANS  PICAYUNE. 

11  ...  a  powerful  romance  by  Owen  Rhoscomyl  of  the  swashbuckling  days  in 
North  Wales,  when  the  Roundheads  warred  against  the  Cavaliers,  and  Charles  1.  ot 
England  lost  his  head,  both  metaphorically  and  literally.  .  .  .  The  picturesque 
ana  virile  style  of  the  author,  and  the  remarkable  power  he  displays  in  his  character 
drawing,  place  his  book  among  the  notable  pieces  of  fiction  of  the  year.  There  is 
plenty  of  fighting,  hard  riding,  love-making,  and  blood-letting  in  the  story,  but  the 
literary  touch  given  to  his  work  by  the  author  places  his  product  far  above  the  average 
of  the  many  tales  of  like  character  that  are  now  striving  to  satisfy  the  present  demand 
for  fiction  that  has  power  without  prurience." — WORLD,  NEW  YORK. 

''There  is  a  vein  of  very  pretty  romance  which  runs  through  the  more  stirring 
scenes  of  battle  and  of  siege.  The  novel  is  certainly  to  be  widely  read  by'those  who 
love  the  tale  of  a  well-fought  battle  and  of  gallant  youth  in  the  days  when  men  carved 
their  way  to  fame  and  fortune  with  a  sword." — ADVERTISER,  BOSTON. 

"...  a  rattling  story  of  adventure,  privation,  and  peril  in  the  wild  Welsh 
marches  during  the  English  civil  war.  ...  In  this  stirring  narrative  Mr.  Rhos- 
comyl has  packed  away  a  great  deal  of  entertainment  for  people  who  like  exciting 
fiction." — COMMERCIAL  ADVERTISER,  NEW  YORK. 

"  There  is  a  flavor  of  old  world  chivalry  in  his  tempestuous  wooing  of  winsome, 
imperious  Barbara,  a  charming  love  idyl.  .  .  .  The  hot  blood  of  the  Welshman 
leads  him  into  many  and  diverse  dangers,  yet  so  gallant  is  he,  so  quick  of  wit,  and 
with  hand  ever  on  sword  hilt,  that  one  accompanies  him  with  unflagging  attention.  .  .  . 
The  scenes  of  the  story  are  historic,  and  the  author's  fertile  and  ingenious  imagination 
has  constructed  a  thrilling  tale  in  which  the  dramatic  situations  crowd  thick  and  fast 
upon  each  other." — FREE  PRESS,  DETROIT. 

"  Owen  Rhoscomyl,  who  wrote  an  excellent  tale  when  he  penned  '  The  Jewel  of 
Ynys  Galon,'  has  followed  it  with  another,  different  in  kind  but  its  equal  in 
degree.  .  .  .  Deals  with  an  entirely  different  phase  of  Welsh  legend  from  his 
former  story,  for  it  enters  the  domain  of  history.  .  .  .  It  is  full  of  merit,  and  is 
entitled  to  pass  muster  as  one  of  the  successful  novels  of  the  season.  .  .  .  The  plot 
is  involved,  and  there  is  a  mystery  in  it  which  is  not  wrought  out  until  the  concluding 
chapters.  .  .  '  .  The  story  will  appeal  strongly  to  the  lover  of  romance  and  ad- 
venture."— BROOKLYN  EAGLE. 

"  He  calls  his  book  a  'mosaic,'  and  if  such  it  be  its  stones  are  the  quaint  customs, 
strange  ways,  and  weird  legends  of  the  Welsh,  welded  by  strong  and  clear  diction  and 
colored  with  the  pigments  of  a  brilliant  fancy.  Gay  pleasures,  stern  war,  and  true  love 
are  powerfully  portrayed,  rivalling  each  other  in  the  interest  of  tTte  reader.  And 
though  the  heroes  and  their  castles  have  l^ng  been  buried  beneath  the  dust  of  time, 
this  writer  sends  an  electric  current  through  his  pages  making  every  actor  and  his  sur- 
roundings alive  again.  He  brings  each  successive  phase  of  adventure,  love,  or  battle, 
before  the  imagination,  clad  in  language  that  impresses  itself  upon  the  memory  and 
makes  the  book  fascinating." — REPUBLICAN,  DENVER. 

"  His  story  is  a  stirring  one,  full  of  events,  alive  with  action,  and  gilded  with  sen- 
timent of  romance." — COURIER,  BOSTON. 


LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  FIFTH  AVE.,  NEW  YORK. 


MONTEZUMA'S    DAUGHTER. 

BY  H.  RIDER  HAGGARD, 

AUTHOR    OF  "  SHE,"  "  ALLAN   QUATERMAIN,"  "  NADA   THK    LILY,"  ETC. 

With  24-  full-page  Illustrations  and  Vignette  by  Maurice 
Greiffenhagen.      Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  $1.25. 


in  each     ...     a  successful  story  well  constructed,  full  of  devious   and  exciting   action, 
and  we  believe  that  it  will  find  a  multitude  of  appreciative  readers." — SUN,  N.  V. 


rep 
skill 
nilgar  sensationalism  in  the  treatment,  and  the  literary  quality  is  sound  throughoui 

Among  the  very  best  stoiiesof  love,  war,  and  romance  that  have  been  written.'' 

—  THE  OUTLOOK. 

"  Is  the  latest  and  best  of  that  popular  writer's  works  of  fiction.  It  enters  a  new 
field  not  befwre  touched  by  previous  tales  from  the  same  author.  In  its  splendor  of  descrip- 
tion, weirdness  of  imagery,  and  wealth  of  startling  incidents  it  rivals  '  King  Solomon's  Mines' 
and  other  earlier  stories,  but  shows  superior  strength  in  many  respects,  and  presents  novelty 
of  scene  that  must  win  new  and  more  enduring  fame  for  its  talented  creator.  .  .  .  The 
analysis  of  human  motives  and  emotions  is  more  subtle  in  this  work  than  in  any  previous 
production  by  Mr.  Haggard.  The  story  will  generally  be  accorded  highest  literary  rank 
among  the  author's  works,  and  will  prove  of  fascinating  interest  to  a  host  of  readers." 

—  MINNEAPOLIS  SPECTATOR. 

"  Is  full  of  the  magnificence  of  the  Aztec  reign,  and  is  quite  as  romantic  and  unbelievable 
as  the  most  fantastic  of  his  earlier  creations."  —  BOOK  BUYER. 

"We  should  be  disposed  to  rank  this  volume  next  to  'King  Solomon's  Mines'  in  order 
interest  and  merit  among  the  author's  works."  —  LITERARY  WORLD,  BOSTON. 

"  It  is  decidedly  the  most  powerful  and  enjoyable  book  that  Mr.  Rider  Haggard  hai 
itten,  with  the  single  exception  of  '  Jess.'  "  —  ACADEMY. 

"  Mr.  Haggard  has  rarely  done  anything  better  than  this  romantic  and  interesting  narra- 
tive. Throughout  the  story  we  are  hurtied  from  one  thrilling  experience  to  another,  and  the 
whole  book  is  written  at  a  level  of  sustained  passion,  which  gives  it  a  very  absorbing  hold  on 
our  imagination.  A  special  word  of  praise  ought  to  be  given  to  the  excellent  illustrations." 

—  DAILY  TELEGRAPH. 

"  Perhaps  the  bestoi  all  the  author's  stories. 

The  great  distinguishing  quality  of  Rider  Haggard  is  this  magic  power  of  seizing  and 
holding  his  readers  so  that  they  become  absorbed  and  abstracted  from  all  earthly  things  while 
their  eyes  devour  the  page.  ...  A  romance  must  have  'grip.'  .  .  .  This  romance 
possesses  the  quality  of  'grip'  in  an  eminent  degree."  —  WALTER  BKSANT  in  the  AUTHOR. 

"The  story  is  both  graphic  and  exciting,  .  .  .  and  tells  of  the  invasion  of  Cortes; 
but  there  are  antecedent  passages  in  England  and  Spain,  for  the  hero  is  an  English  adven- 
turer who  finds  his  way  throueh  Spain  to  Mexico  on  a  vengeful  quest.  The  vengeance  is  cer- 
tainly satisfactory,  but  it  is  not  reached  until  the  hero  has  had  as  surprising  a  series  of  perils 
•»nd  escapes  as  even  the  fertile  imagination  of  the  author  ever  devised."  —  DIAL,  CHICAGO. 

LONGMANS,  GEEEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  PITTS  AVE.,  NEW  YOKE. 


«f 
wri 


JOAN    HASTE 


A    NOVEL. 
BY  H.  RIDER  HAGGARD, 

AUTHOR  OF  "SHE,"  "  HEART  OF  THE  WORLD,"  4l  THE  PEOPLE  OF  THE  MIST,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


With   2O  full-page    Illustrations  by  F.  S.  Wilson. 
12mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,   $1.25.. 


"  It  is  less  r.dventurous  in  theme,  the  tone  is  more  quiet,  and  the  manner  more 
in  keeping  with  the  so-called  realistic  order  of  fiction  than  anything  Mr.  Haggard  has 
heretofore  published.  'Joan  Haste  '  is  by  far  the  most  earnest,  and  in  many  ways  the 
most  impressive  work  of  Mr.  Haggard's  that  has  yet  been  printed.  The  insight  into 
character  which  it  displays  is  almost  invariably  keen  and  true.  Every  personality  in 
the  story  is  fully  alive,  and  individual  traits  of  thought  and  action  are  revealed  little 
by  little  as  the  narrative  progresses,  until  they  stand  forth  as  definite  and  consistent 
creations."— THE  BOSTON  BEACON. 

"  All  the  sfong  and  striking  peculiarities  that  have  made  Mr.  Haggard's  earlier 
works  so  deservedly  popular  are  repeated  here  in  a  new  spirit.  Not  only  that,  but 
his  literary  execution  shows  an  enlarged  skill  and  betrays  the  master-hand  of  self- 
restraint  that  indicate  maturity  of  power.  His  conception  of  character  is  improved  by 
the  elimination  of  all  crudeness  and  haste,  and  his  delineations  are  consequently  closer 
to  life.  One  is  reminded  strongly  of  Dickens  in  his  admirable  drawing  of  minor  char- 
acters. Mrs.  Bird  is  such  a  character.  .  .  .  The  illustrations  of  the  book  are  nu- 
merous and  strikingly  good.  Many  of  the  scenes  are  intensely  dramatic,  and  move  the 
feelings  to  the  higher'pitch.  .  .  ."  Even  in  the  little  concerns  of  the  story  the  wealth 
of  its  imagination  appears,  glowing  in  the  warmth  of  its  unstinted  creations..  There  is 
a  splendor  in  his  description,  a  weird  spirit  in  his  imagery,  a  marvelous  variety  of 
detail,  and  at  all  points  a  creative  force  that  give  a  perpetual  freshness  and  newness  to 
the  fiction  to  which  he  gives  his  powers.  To  take  up  one  of  his  fascinating  books  is 
to  finish  it,  and  this  story  of  'Joan  Haste'  is  not  to  be  outdone  by  the  best  of  them  all. 
The  strength,  emphasis,  and  vigor  of  his  style  as  well  as  of  his  treatment  is  to  be 
credited  to  none  but  superior  gifts  and  powers.  .  .  .  'Joan  Haste'  will  become 
the  favorite  of  everybody."  —BOSTON  COURIER. 

"  Mr.  Haggard's  new  story  is  a  sound  and  pleasing  example  of  modern  English 
fiction  a  book  worth  reading.  ...  Its  personages  are  many  and  well 

contrasted,  and  all  reasonably  human  and  interesting."— NEW  YORK  TIMES. 


"  In  this  pretty,  pathetic  story  Mr.  Haggard  has  lost  none  of  his  true  art, 


Haggard's  stories  of  adventure."— BOSTON  ADVERTISER. 


"  This  story  is  full  of  startling  incidents.     It  is  intensely  interesting." 

— CLEVELAND  GAZETTE. 

"  The  plot  thickens  with  the  growth  of  the  story,  which  is  one  of  uncommon  interest 
and  pathos.  The  book  has  the  advantage  of  the  original  illustrations." 

— CLEVELAND  WORLD. 

"'Joan  Haste'  is  really  a  good  deal  more  than  the  ordinary  novel  of  English 
country  life.  It  is  the  best  thing  Haggard  has  done.  There  is  some  character  sketch- 
ing in  it  that  is  equal  to  anything  of  this  kind  we  have  had  recently." 

—COURIER,  LINCOLN,  NEB. 

"  In  this  unwonted  field  he  has  done  well.  'Joan  Haste  '  is  so  far  ahead  of  his  for- 
mer works  that  it  will  surprise  even  those  who  have  had  most  confidence  in  his  ability. 

To  those  who  read  Thomas  Hardy's  '  Tess  of  the  D'Urbervilles  '  the  atmosphere 
and  incidents  of  'Joan  Haste '  will  seem  familiar.  It  is  written  along  much  the  same 
lines,  and  in  this  particular  it  might  be  accused  of  a  lack  of  originality ;  but  Haggard 
has  come  dangerously  close  to  beating  Hardy  in  his  own  field.  Hardy's  coarseness  is 
missing,  but  Hardy's  power  is  excelled."— MUNSEY'S  MAGAZINE. 

LONGMANS,  GEEEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  FIFTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK. 


WHAT  NECESSITY  KNOWS. 

A  Novel  of  Canadian  Life  and  Character. 
Bv  MISS    L.    DOUGALL, 

AUTHOR   OF   "  BEGGARS   ALL." 


Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  $1.OO. 

"  A  very  remarkable  novel,  and  not  a  book  that  can  be  lightly  classified  or  ranged  witk 
Other  modern  works  of  fiction.  .  .  .  It  is  a  distinct  creation  ...  a  structure  of 
noble  and  original  design  and  of  grand  and  dignified  conception.  .  .  .  The  book  bristle* 
with  epigrammatic  sayings  which  one  would  like  to  remember.  ...  It  will  appeal 
Strongly  by  force  of  its  originality  and  depth  of  insight  and  for  the  eloquence  and  dignity  of 
style  in  the  descriptive  passages." — MANCHESTER  GUARDIAN,  LONDON. 

"  We  think  we  are  well  within  the  mark  in  saying  that  this  novel  is  one  of  the  three  or 
four  best  novels  of  the  year.  The  social  atmosphere  as  well  as  the  external  conditions  of 
Canadian  life  are  reproduced  faithfully.  The  author  is  eminently  thoughtful,  yet  the  story 
is  not  distinctively  one  of  moral  purpose.  The  play  of  character  and  the  clash  of  purpose  are 
finely  wrought  out.  .  .  .  What  gives  the  book  its  highest  value  is  really  the  author's 
deep  knowledge  of  motive  and  character.  The  reader  continually  comes  across  keen  obser- 
vations and  subtle  expressions  that  not  infrequently  recall  George  Eliot.  The  novel  is  one 
that  is  worth  reading  a  second  time."—  OUTLOOK,  NEW  YORK. 

"  Keen  analysis,  deeu  spiritual  insight,  and  a  quick  sense  of  beauty  in  nature  and 
human  nature  are  combined  to  put  before  us  a  drama  of  human  life  .  .  .  the  book  is  not 
only  interesting  hut  stimulating,  not  only  stronz  but  suggestive,  and  we  may  say  of  the 
writer,  in  Sidney  Lanier's  wcrds,  '  She  shows  man  what  he  may  be  in  terms  of  what  he  is.'* 

—LITERARY  WORLD,  BOSTON. 

NADA    THE    LILY. 

BY  H.  RIDER  HAGGARD, 

AUTHOR  OP  "  SHE,"   "  ALLAN  QUATERMAIN,"   ETC. 

With    23  full-page    Illustrations,   by   C.  H.  M.  Kerr. 
1  2mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental  (Copyright),  $1.OO. 

"  A  thrilling  book  full  .•  .  .  of  almost  incredible  instances  of  personal  daring  and  of 
wonderful  revenge.  .  .  .  The  many  vigorous  illustrations  add  much  to  the  interest  of  a 
book  that  may  safely  be  denominated  as  Mr.  Haggard's  most  successful  venture  in  the 
writing  of  fiction."— BOSTON  BEACON. 

"  The  story  of  '  Nada  the  Lily '  is  full  of  action  and  adventure  ;  the  plot  is  cleverly 
wrought  and  the  fighting  and  adventure  are  described  with  spirit.  Once  begun  it  is,  indeed, 
a  story  to  be  finished."— N.  Y.  TRIBUNE. 

"  The  story  is  a  magnificent  effort  of  the  imagination  and  quite  the  best  of  all  that  Mr. 
Haggard  has  done.  There  is  no  example  of  manufactured  miracle  in  this  story,  for  the  story 
of  the  Ghost  mountain,  the  Stone  Witch,  and  the  Wolves  is  nothing  but  the  folk-lore  of  the 
African  tribes,  and  in  no  respect  similar  to  the  wonders  which  the  author  introduced  into 
the  stories  in  which  Allan  Quatermain  figures." — SPRINGFIELD  REPUBLICAN'. 

"  To  my  mind  the  realization  of  savage  existence  and  the  spirit  of  it  have  never  been  so 
honestly  and  accurately  set  forth.  The  Indians  of  Chateaubriand,  and  even  of  Cooper,  are 
conventional  compared  with  these  blood-thirsty,  loyal,  and  fatalistic  Zulus.  .  .  .  The 
whole  legend  seems  to  me  to  be  a  curiously  veracious  reproduction  of  Zulu  life  and  character." 

— Mr.  ANDREW  LANG  in  the  New  Review. 

"  Rider  Haggard's  latest  story  .  .  .  has  a  more  permanent  value  than  anything 
this  prolific  author  has  previously  given  to  the  public.  He  has  preserved  in  this  latest 
romance  many  of  the  curious  tales,  traditions,  superstitions,  the  wonderful  folk-lore  of  a 
nation  now  extinct,  a  people  rapidly  melting  away  before  an  advancing  tide  of  civilization. 
The  romance  into  which  Mr.  Haggard  has  woven  valuable  material  is  in  his  own  inimitable 
style,  and  will  delight  those  who  love  the  weirdly  improbable."— BOSTON  TRAVELLER. 


LONGMANS,  GBEEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  PIPTH  AYE.,  NEW  TOEK. 


HEART   OF   THE   WORLD. 

A    STORY    OF    MEXICAN    ADVENTURE. 

BY  H.  RIDER  HAGGARD, 

A'.rrHOR  OF  "SHB,"  "MONTEZOMA'S  DAUGHTER,"  "THE  PEOPLE  OF  THE  MIST,"  ETC. 


With   1  3  full-page  Illustrations  by  Amy  Sawyer 
1  2mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1.25. 


"  The  adventures  of  Ignatio  and  his  white  friend  will  compare  for  strangeness  with  any 
that  the  writer  has  imagined.  And  the  invention  of  the  city  and  people  of  the  heart,  of  the 
secret  order,  with  its  ritual  and  history,  and  the  unforeseen  crisis  of  the  tale,  shows  that  the 
quality  that  most  distinguishes  the  author's  former  works  is  still  his  in  abundance.  .  .  . 
The  tale  as  a  whole  is  so  effective  that  we  willingly  overlook  its  improbability,  and  so  novel 
that  even  those  who  have  read  all  of  Rider  Haggard's  former  works  will  still  find  something 
surprising  in  this." — THE  CRITIC. 

"  Here  are  strange  adventures  and  wonderful  heroisms.  The  scene  is  laid  in  Mexico. 
The  story  rehearses  the  adventures  of  an  athletic  Englishman  who  loves  and  weds  an 
Indian  princess.  There  are  marvelous  descriptions  of  the  'City  of  the  Heart,'  a  mysteri- 
ous town  hemmed  in  by  swamps  and  unknown  mountains." 

— COMMERCIAL  ADVERTISER,  NEW  YORK. 

"  Has  a  rare  fascination,  and  in  using  that  theme  Mr.  Haggard  has  not  only  hit  upon 
a  story  of  peculiar  charm,  but  he  has  also  wrought  out  a  story  original  and  delightful  to 
even  the  most  jaded  reader  of  the  novel  of  incident." — ADVEKTISER,  BOSTON.  • 

"  It  is  a  fascinating  tale,  and  the  reader  will  not  want  to  put  the  book  down  till  he  has 
read  the  last  word." — PICAYUNE,  NEW  ORLEANS. 

"The  lovers  of  Rider  Haggard's  glowing  works  have  no  reason  to  complain  of  his  latest 
"book.  .  .  .  The  story  is,  all  in  all,  one  of  the  most  entertaining  of  the  author's  whole 
list." — TRAVELLER,  BOSTON. 

"  In  its  splendor  of  description,  weirdness  of  imagery,  its  astonishing  variety  of  detail, 
and  the  love  story  which  blends  with  history  and  fantasy,  the  book  without  doubt  is  a 
creation  distinct  from  previous  tales.  Maya,  the  Lady  of  the  Heart,  is  an  ideal  character. 
.  .  .  Interest  is  sustained  throughout." — POST,  CHICAGO. 

"The  success  of  Mr.  Haggard's  stories  consists  in  the  spirit  of  adventure  which  runs 
through  them,  in  their  rapid  succession  of  incidents,  in  the  bustle  which  animates  their 
characters,  and  in  the  trying  situations  in  which  they  are  placed.  .  .  .  this  last  story 
.  .  .  introduces  his  readers  ...  to  a  comparatively  new  field  of  fiction  in  the  evolu- 
tion of  an  ancient  Aztec  tradition  concerning  the  concealed  existence  of  a  wonderful  Golden 
City.  .  .  ." — MAIL  AND  EXPRESS,  NEW  YORK. 

"A  thrilling  story  of  adventure  in  Mexico.  It  is  doubtful  if  he  has  surpassed  in  vivid 
coloring  his  delineation  of  the  character  of 'Maya.'  This  work  is  really  a  notable  addition 
to  the  great  body  of  romance  with  which  his  name  is  associated." — PRESS,  PHILADELPHIA. 

"  This  romance  is  really  one  of  the  best  he  has  given  us." — TIMES,  PHILADELPHIA. 

"  When  the  love  of  romance  shall  die  in  the  human  heart  we  may  bid  farewell  to  all  that 
is  best  in  fiction.  ...  In  this  story  we  have  the  same  reckless  dash  of  imagination  and 
the  same  gorgeous  profusion  of  barbaric  scenes  and  startling  adventure  which  have  always 
characterized  Mr.  Haggard's  works."  — INDEPENDENT,  NEW  YOKK. 

"  His  latest,  and  one  of  his  most  powerful  stories.  It  shows  the  same  trenchant,  effective 
way  of  dealing  with  his  story  :  and  the  same  power  in  open,  startling  situations.  It  will 
give  the  reader  some  new  idea  of  that  ancient  people,  the  Aztecs,  as  well  as  of  the  more  mod- 
ern Mexicans.  It  is  as  strong  as  '  King  Solomon's  Mines.'  " — TIMES.  HARTFORD. 


LONGMANS,  GEEEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  PIPTH  AVE,,  NEW  YOEK. 


THE    PEOPLE    OF    THE    MIST. 

BY  H.  RIDER  HAGGARD, 

AUTHOR  OF   "  SHE,"  "  ALLAN  QUATKRMAIN,"  "  MONTBZUMA'S  DAUGHTBR,"  ETC,  ETC. 


With   16  full-page   Illustrations    by   Arthur  Layard.      Crown 
8vo,  cloth,  ornamental,  $1.25. 


"  Out  of  Africa,  as  all  men  know,  the  thing  that  is  new  is  ever  forthcoming.  The  oil' 
style  is  true  with  regard  to  Mr.  Haggard's  romances,  and  everybody  concerned  is  to  be  con 
gratulated  upon  the  romancer's  return  to  the  magical  country  where  lies  the  land  of  Kor. 
Africa  is  Mr.  Haggard's  heaven  of  invention.  Let  him  be  as  prodigal  as  he  may,  thence 
flows  an  exhaustless  stream  of  romance,  rich  in  wonders  new  and  astonishing.  '  The  People 
of  the  Mist '  belongs  to  the  sphere  of  '  She '  in  its  imaginative  scope,  and,  as  an  example  of 
the  story-teller's  art,  must  be  reckoned  of  the  excellent  company  of  '  King  Solomon's 
Mines  '  and  its  brethren.  We  read  it  at  one  spell,  as  it  were,  hardly  resisting  that  effect  of 
fascination  which  invites  you,  at  the  critical  moments  of  the  story,  to  plunge  ahead  at  t 
venture  to  know  what  is  coming,  and  be  resolved  as  to  some  harrowing  doubt  of  dilemma. 
There  is  no  better  test  of  the  power  of  a  story  than  this.  .  .  ." — SATURDAY  REVIEW. 

"  The  lawyer,  the  physician,  the  business  man,  the  teacher,  find  in  these  novels,  teem- 
ing with  life  and  incident,  precisely  the  medicine  to  rest  tired  brains  and  '  to  take  them  out  of 
themselves.'  There  is,  perhaps,  no  writer  of  this  present  time  whose  works  are  read  more 
generally  and  with  keener  pleasure.  The  mincing  words,  the  tedious  conversations,  the 
prolonged  agony  of  didactic  discussion,  characteristic  of  the  ordinary  novel  of  the  time,  find 
no  place  in  the  crisp,  bright,  vigorous  pages  of  Mr.  Haggard's  books.  .  .  .  '  The  People 
of  the  Mist '  is  what  we  expect  and  desire  from  the  pen  of  this  writer  ...  a  deeply 
interesting  novel,  a  fitting  companion  to  '  Allan  Quatertnain.'  " — PUBLIC  OPINION. 

"  The  story  of  the  combat  between  the  dwarf  Otter  and  the  huge  '  snake,'  a  crocodile 
of  antediluvian  proportions,  and  the  following  account  of  the  escape  of  the  Outram  party, 
is  one  of  the  best  pieces  of  dramatic  fiction  which  Mr.  Haggard  has  ever  written." — BOS- 
TON ADVERTISER. 

"  One  of  his  most  ingenious  fabrications  of  marvellous  adventure,  and  so  skilfully  is  it 
done  that  the  reader  loses  sight  of  the  improbability  in  the  keen  interest  of  the  tale.  Two 
loving  and  beautiful  women  figure  in  the  narrative,  and  in  his  management  of  the  heroine 
and  her  rival  the  author  shows  his  originality  as  well  as  in  the  sensational  element  which  is 
his  peculiar  province." — BOSTON  BEACON. 

'"The  People  of  the  Mist'  is  the  best  novel  he  has  written  since  'She,'  and  it  runj 
that  famous  romance  very  close  indeed.  The  dwarf  Otter  is  fully  up  to  the  mark  of  Rider 
Haggard's  best  character,  and  his  fight  with  the  snake  god  is  as  powerful  as  anything  the 
author  has  written.  The  novel  abounds  in  striking  scenes  and  incidents,  and  the  read- 
er's interest  is  never  allowed  to  flag.  The  attack  on  the  slave  kraal  and  the  rescue  of  Juanna 
are  in  Mr.  Haggard's  best  vein." — CHARLESTON  NEWS. 

"  It  has  all  the  dash  and  go  of  Haggard's  other  tales  of  adventure,  and  few  readers  will 
be  troubled  over  the  impossible  things  in  the  story  as  they  follow  the  exciting  exploits  of  th« 
hero  and  his  redoubtable  dwarf  Otter.  ...  .  Otter  is  a  character  worthy  to  be  classed 
with  Umslopogus,  the  great  Zulu  warrior.  Haggard  has  never  imagined  anything  more  ter- 
ror-inspiring than  the  adventures  of  Leonard  and  his  party  in  the  awful  palace  of  the  Chil- 
dren of  Mist,  nor  has  he  ever  described  a  more  thrilling  combat  than  that  between  the  dwari 
and  the  huge  water  snake  in  the  sacred  pool." — SAN  FRANCISCO  CHRONICLE. 

"  It  displays  all  of  this  popular  author's  imagery,  power  to  evoke  and  combine  miraculous 
incidents,  and  skill  in  analyzing  human  motives  and  emotions  in  the  most  striking  manner. 
He  is  not  surpassed  by  any  modern  writer  of  fiction  for  vividness  of  description  or  keenness 
of  perception  and  boldness  of  characterization.  The  reader  will  find  here  the  same  qualities 
in  full  measure  that  stamped  '  King  Solomon's  Mines,'  'Jess,'  '  She,'  and  his  other  earlier 
romances  with  their  singular  power.  The  narrative  is  a  series  of  scenes  and  pictures  ;  the 
events  are  strange  to  the  verge  of  ghoulishness  :  the  action  of  the  story  is  tireless,  and  the 
reader  is  held  as  with  a  grip  not  to  be  shaken  off." — BOSTON  COURIER. 

"  Sometimes  we  are  reminded  of  King  Solomon's  Mines '  and  sometimes  of  She,'  but  the 
mixture  has  the  same  elements  of  interest,  dwells  in  the  same  strange  land  of  mystery  and 
adventure,  and  appeals  to  the  same  public  that  Luys  and  reads  Mr.  Haggard's  works  for  the 
sake  of  the  rapid  adventure,  the  strong  handling  of  improbable  incident,  and  the  fascination 
of  the  supernatural." — BALTIMORE  SUN. 


LONGMANS,  GBEEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  PIPTH  AVE.,  NEW  YOEK. 


THE    WIZARD. 

BY  H.  RIDER  HAGGARD, 

AUTHOR  OF  "SHE,"  "[KING  SOLOMON'S  MINES,"  ''JOAN  HASTE,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


With   1  9  full-page  Illustrations  by  Charles  Kerr. 
Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1.25. 

"  I  owe  an  exciting,  delightful  evening  once  more  to  a  pen — say  a  voice — which 
has  held  me  a  willing  prisoner  in  a  grasp  of  iron.  It  is  now  ten  years  ago,  I  think, 
since  I  gave  Mr.  Rider  Haggard  my  opinion  that  for  the  rest  of  his  life  he  would  have 
'  She  '  always  with  him  to  be  compared  with  what  might  follow.  That  incomparable 
romance,  indeed,  has  never  been  surpassed  by  any  living  writer.  Rider  Haggard  is 
the  possessor  of  an  imagination  stronger,  more  vivid,  more  audacious  than  is  found  in 
any  other  writer  of  the  time.  I  say  this  in  order  to  introduce  his  latest  work,  '  The 
Wizard.'  It  is  only  a  short  tale — too  short — but  it  shows  imaginative  power  that  makes 
it  worthy  to  follow  after  '  She.' :' — SIR  WALTER  BESANT,  in  "  THE  QUEEN." 

"  The  scene  of  this  thrilling  story  is  laid  in  Africa,  but  in  many  respects  it  is  a  new 
departure  for  the  writer.  .  .  .  has  never  written  anything  more  pathetic  or  with 
greater  force  than  this  tale  of  a  missionary  venture  and  a  martyr's  death.  The  '  Pass- 
ing Over  '  is  told  with  a  simple  beauty  of  language  which  recalls  the  last  passages  in 
the  life  of  the  martyred  Bishop  Hannington.  As  for  the  improbabilities,  well,  they  are 
cleverly  told,  and  we  are  not  afraid  to  say  that  we  rather  like  them  ;  but  Haggard  has 
never  achieved  a  conception  so  beautiful  as  that  of  Owen,  or  one  that  he  has  clothed 
with  so  great  a  semblance  of  life." — PACIFIC  CHURCHMAN,  SAN  FRANCISCO. 

"  '  The  Wizard  '  is  one  of  his  most  vivid  and  brilliant  tales.  Miracles  are  no  new 
things  in  the  frame-work  used  by  the  writers  of  fiction,  but  no  one  has  attempted  just 
the  use  of  them  which  Haggard  makes  in  this  novel.  It  is  so  entirely  new,  so  abso- 
lutely in  line  with  the  expressed  beliefs  of  devout  folk  everywhere,  that  it  ought  to 
strike  a  responsive  chord  in  the  popular  heart  as  did  '  Ben  Hur,'  and  should  be  equally 
successful." — BROOKLYN  DAILY  EAGLE. 

"  Mr.  Haggard  gives  full  play  in  the  history  of  the  conversion  of  the  Son  of  Fire 
to  his  strong  imagination,  and  he  has  succeeded  admirably  in  conveying  an  earnest 
religious  lesson,  while  telling  one  of  his  most  exciting  and  entertaining  stories." 

-^  — BEACON,  BOSTON. 

"  It  is  to  be  read  at  one  sitting,  without  resisting  that  fascination  which  draws  you 
on  from  one  to  another  critical  moment  of  the  story,  to  resolve  some  harrowing  doubt 
of  dilemma.  .  .  .  Hokosa,  the  wizard,  whose  art  proved  at  first  so  nearly  fatal  to 
the  messenger's  cause,  and  whose  devilish  plots  resulted  finally  in  conversion  and 
Christianity,  is  one  of  Mr.  Haggard's  best  creations.  The  portrait  has  a  vigor  and 
picturesqueness  comparable  to  that  of  '  Allan  Quatermain.'  " 

— PICAYUNE,  NEW  ORLEANS. 

"  It  has  all  the  spirit  and  movement  of  this  popular  author's  finest  work." 

— EVENING  BULLETIN,  PHILADELPHIA. 

"  A  brilliant  story  truly,  and  here  and  there  alive  with  enthusiasm  and  fire.  Mr. 
Haggard  describes  savage  combats  with  rare  skill,  and,  somehow,  we  revel  with  him 
when  he  shows  us  legion  after  legion  of  untamed  children  of  nature  fighting  to  the  grim 
death  with  uncouth  weapons  yet  with  as  dauntless  a  courage  as  the  best  trained  soldiers 
of  Europe.  It  may  be  wrong  for  him  to  stir  up  our  savage  instincts,  but,  after  all,  a 
healthy  animalism  is  not  to  be  scoffed  at  in  any  breed  of  men."— NEW  YORK  HERALD. 

"  Is  as  fffll  of  adventure  as  the  most  ardent  admirer  of  tales  of  courage  and  daring 
could  desire.  As  its  title  implies,  it  portrays  a  character  who  is  an  adept  in  witch- 
craft, cunning,  and  knowledge  of  human  nature.  There  is  a  distinct  religious  element 
throughout  the  book  ;  indeed,  but  for  its  religious  motive  there  would  be  no  story." 

— ST.  Louis  REPUBLICAN. 


LONGMANS,  GKEEN,  &  00.,  91-93  FIFTH  AVE.,  NEW.YOKK. 


iTHEADAIR  BOOK  STORE 


BOUGHT.SOLO  AND  EXCHANGED. 
N0.43  E.VAN  BUREN  ST.CHiCAGO.'U. 


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